


i got my tongue between your teeth

by fatherwon



Series: my my my! [2]
Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Beaches, Class Differences, Developing Relationship, Established Relationship, Falling In Love, Fluff, Hoseok Is A Rich Bitch, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Mild Smut, Romantic Fluff, Stripper Yoo Kihyun, Strippers & Strip Clubs, penthouses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-08
Updated: 2018-05-15
Packaged: 2019-05-04 03:39:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 25,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14584146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fatherwon/pseuds/fatherwon
Summary: he's like a desert rose. alluring and glowing bright red.alternatively: kihyun's a stripper and hoseok wants to give him the world.( prequel to:shine on, diamond)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> (brain: annie u have exams this week wyd  
> me: —busts ass writing this instead of studying & stressing oops)
> 
> this is a prelude to their relationship basically bcs icouldnthelpmyself we all deserve a lil good ol’ fashioned fluff fest. esp since i have so much evil stuff planned for this au :> trying to soften the blow with subtle bribery and fluff

Everything about the club screams opulence. Even the sign outside — _Couture,_  it reads in burning neon and pink letters — is sparkling and big, like a precious gemstone set into the inky sky. It is two-tiered and vast, full of luxurious furniture and fixtures. The upper level curves around the center of the club, like a balcony that peers over the lower floor. It's more like a lounge, with a bar, all lit up and polished, and an array of leather recliners and sofas and glass tables spread all over under the dusky, purple light. The ground level is more happening. There is a stage, fogged up and glittering, flashing with lights, for the DJ and dancers with seats lined up around for spectators.

_(“How did you manage to get us in here?” Hoseok had asked Hyunwoo as soon as they had ducked in through the entrance. He had to shout to be heard over the booming bass. “This place literally reeks of money. It might as well have its own tiara.”_

_"We literally_ _reek of money,” Hyunwoo had said, glancing at at the younger over his shoulder. Hoseok rolled his eyes._

_“No,” he argued as they wound deeper into the club, almost tripping over people and sofas as they went. “Our parents literally reek of money. Now answer me.”_

_A boy brushed past Hyunwoo, a tray of neon drinks balanced on his left hand and a thick, gold collar secure around his neck, a contrast to his messy, silver hair. He looked young, barely eighteen. Hyunwoo smiled at him and he licked his lips in response, settling down amongst a group of men near the stage._

_"I know the_ _guy who owns the place,” Hyunwoo said with a shrug. “Bang Yongguk. You remember him?”_

_"Oh, yeah. He was at Himchan's party. The guy who brought those dancers,” Hoseok reminisced, hearing Hyunwoo hum in acknowledgment next to him. “Makes sense now.”)_

The fabric of Hoseok's blouse clings uncomfortably to his skin, and his hair is already mildly damp with sweat. Even with the loud, thumping bass rattling his skull, the scent of booze, expensive perfume and cigars clouding his senses, and flickering, dull lights overhead, Hoseok can see Hyunwoo seated on a plush, leather armchair a little away. There's a boy — one of the dancers — sitting perched up on the armrest, slender and pretty, clothed fully in dark satin with several thin chains hanging around his neck. He's brushing his fingers over Hyunwoo's thigh, and then he's trailing them up to hook under Hyunwoo's chin, pulling him closer and leaning in to kiss him.

Downstairs, there are a few dancers tending to hungry crowds from inside cages and onstage shimmering with silver glitter and beads of sweat under the flashing club lights, and a couple more milling around the area above, switching between groups of people with small trays in hand, tall glasses of cocktails and hard liquor trembling gently against each other as they go. But one in particular has caught Hoseok's attention, hooking him in at the navel and drawing him in like prey with his rosy-red lips and the sleek chiffon crop top he's wearing over a pair of shredded shorts. There's a thinly weaved, silver chain wrapped around his bare waist, loosely hugging his hips and rippling over his skin with every step.

He's like a desert rose. Alluring and glowing bright red.

Hoseok is sitting at the bar, nursing a blue drink in a tall-stemmed Martini glass, when the boy twirls away from a group of businessmen slouched into black, leather sofas, decked out in heavy suits and harbouring thick Cubans between their fingertips. The boy heads straight for the bar, swiveling his hips, an empty, silver tray tucked under his arm, and presses a hip onto the marble bar isle, looking like sin. He gently nudges one of the bartenders, whom Hoseok has come to know as Changkyun, with his shoulder when the latter says, “ _Y_ _ou're such a tease._ ”

In the dusky light, Hoseok can see faint traces of shimmering gold and pink dust swiped across the boy’s eyelids, dotting some areas of pale, milky skin over his collarbones and neck, too. His hair is tousled and swept away from his face, artfully messy and the prettiest shade of brown. A mix of pine bark and dark, rich cacao. A thick, black length of silk is wrapped around his neck, right over the swell of his throat and tied off in a small knot over the side of his neck. It's a complement to the large, black hoops that hang from his ears.

Hoseok wonders how effortlessly he could make this boy crumble under his fingertips. Undoing his choker with his teeth, sucking on his red lips, slipping fingers under his shirt, pressing his thumbs into the pretty crests of his hips. The thought alone has Hoseok's veins sizzling with hot blood like live wires.

Hoseok doesn't realise he's staring, listlessly tracing the rim of his glass with the tip of his index, until the boy turns away from Changkyun to settle his tapering, thinly-lined eyes on Hoseok.

“What are you looking at, big boy?” He asks, a hint of teasing present in his voice as he rests a pretty hand, adorned with several rings and decorated with various types of bracelets, on his hip. His fingers and palm brush over the bare skin of his waist, and he taps his fingers alluringly over his hip. He finds a groove to fit his fingers into and Hoseok's eyes glitter with want and burning desire.

"You,” Hoseok answers smoothly, cautiously, gazing deep into the boy's dark eyes and feeling his heart thrum against his ribs when the boy's lips curl into a smile.

The brunette swiftly hands Changkyun the vacant tray, watching him walk away to fill up more glasses with drinks, before training his eyes back on Hoseok, his eyes sparkling with excitement and thrill. The club lights flash once, twice and they fill the boy's dark, gorgeous eyes with swirls of colour for a brief second, and Hoseok is entranced.

“Like what you see?” He muses, shaking wayward strands of chocolate-brown hair away from his face with slow, teasing hands. He tilts his head to the side ever so gently, baring the side of his neck and Hoseok wants nothing more than to press his teeth into the soft skin. He wants to litter blooming, red marks all over the boy's throat, _render him breathless._

“Yes,” Hoseok says coolly, and the boy grins, big and toothy. But the spark in his eyes, like a wild, blazing flame, is still very much there. “What's your name?”

The boy walks closer luxuriously, an alluring sway in his step as he settles right in front of the bar island, his hands pressed onto the cold, marble surface. His fingers are adorned with several rings, ranging from plain bands to ones set with gems. A sharp click echoes in Hoseok's ears, making his hair stand upright and his skin pebble, when the boy taps his fingers over the counter.

“Kihyun,” he introduces. “And you?”

“Hoseok.”

“Hoseok," Kihyun repeats, slow and mediative, slight playfulness in his tone. The name rolls off his tongue like honey, so smooth and perfect, it has Hoseok's blood turning to fire in his body. He thinks of Kihyun, sprawled under him, whispering his name, moaning it, _screaming_ it out in shameless, filthy shouts.

Kihyun places his elbows on the island and leans onto them. He's a lot closer to Hoseok now, so close that Hoseok can see the thin rings of gold rimming his pupils, the pinkish glow dusting his cheeks and the way his eyelashes flatten over his skin every time he blinks. It's mesmerising. “I haven't seen you around here before, and believe you me, I know _everyone_ here.”

Hoseok taps his fingertips over the stem of his glass and raises it to his lips. He downs the drink in one go. “I haven't been here before. My mother would kill me if she knew where I am.”

“Strict, is she?” Kihyun asks, his earrings shaking ever so gently when he tilts his head. The line of his jaw is sharp and beautiful — could cut, like a shard of glass — and Hoseok wants to trail his fingers over it, wants to feel it slice his skin.

Kihyun pillows his chin on his palm, an anticipating, _excited_ glint in his pretty eyes. The sleeve of his top slips down his forearm a little, revealing a slim wrist, decorated with several bracelets. There's a cluster of small, black butterflies inked along his wrist bone, fluttering prettily towards his thumb. Hoseok reaches to gingerly brush his fingertips over it. It feels smooth, like velvet.

Hoseok's fingers eventually end up laced through Kihyun's, rough skin against soft satin. Kihyun places his hand on the counter space between them and lets Hoseok trace slow, random patterns onto his palm.

“Opinionated, more like, and, yeah, basically. She definitely wouldn’t approve of me doing _this_ ,” Hoseok says, gesturing between Kihyun and himself in the small, insignificant space separating them.  

Kihyun's eyes are dark. They glitter with some dangerous form passion burning deep inside. Slowly, he trails his eyes over Hoseok's body, absorbing him, taking him all in. He stares at where the bulges of Hoseok's arms strain against his shirt, and licks his lips. “Well, you're not really doing anything right now, are you? Not yet, at least.”

Hoseok glances at Kihyun's lips. They are so, so red and just _begging_ to be ravished. He sees a few teeth marks pressed into the skin, and Hoseok wonders if they're real or whether it's the adrenaline and alcohol singing in his veins.

“Does that mean I can kiss you?” Hoseok asks, peering up at Kihyun as his fingers curl into the soft material of Hoseok's shirt, tugging him closer until their mouths are ghosting over one another's.

“I’m all yours,” he whispers over Hoseok's lips, his eyes fluttering, and that's all it takes for Hoseok to bite down on Kihyun's bottom lip.

.

It starts out slow, building and creeping like a fever. Kihyun is tugging at Hoseok's hands, pulling him through the club and letting Hoseok press him against anything that shows potential so Hoseok can kiss him and lick into his mouth, like a wild cat ravishing its prey.  The music plays loudly in the background. It's just a muffled thump through the doors and walls, so far away from the main lounge.

Hoseok presses Kihyun into the railing of a winding, furtive staircase tucked somewhere at the far back of the club behind rows and rows of closed doors. The metal is cold against Kihyun's skin, digging into his spine like the blade of a knife. Laughing into Hoseok's mouth, Kihyun turns a little and starts walking, backwards, up the stairs, reaching out to grab onto Hoseok shoulders occasionally as they kiss.

When they stumble into Kihyun's apartment, upstairs, right over the club, Hoseok fumbles with the hem of Kihyun's shirt and the buttons of his shorts. They're still mid-kiss, Kihyun gripping Hoseok's face and Hoseok undressing Kihyun with deft fingers, letting his clothes fall to the ground with a soft thud before moving to tug his own clothes off.

They're naked when Kihyun's being pressed into the sheets, except for the silk wrapped around Kihyun's neck. Hoseok takes a moment to admire Kihyun's body, breathless with his teeth biting down onto his lip. Everything about Kihyun is beautiful. The hollows of his cheekbones and collarbones, the narrow crests of his hips and the soft muscles of his thighs. Sprawled over crumpled sheets, his hair messy and tangled, cheeks glowing and eyes sparkling with burning desire, Kihyun looks so, so pretty, Hoseok thinks. All he wants is to break Kihyun down slowly, piece by piece. He wants to touch him, _feel him_ , hold him with his eyes and unwind him slowly, carefully with his mind. Hoseok wants to make Kihyun's toes curl and body tremble until he's crying, _begging_ for Hoseok.

So Hoseok takes his sweet time, letting Kihyun unravel at a slow, saccharine pace, like an unfurling flower coming into full bloom. Hoseok's fingers are perfect and skilled, every touch like a trail of fire along Kihyun's skin. He delicately trails his fingers over Kihyun's ribs, pressing into every groove he finds and kissing the moles and scars there. And Kihyun gasps at every kiss and press of fingers, his fingers curling and uncurling in the sheets. Kihyun wants to feel Hoseok — all of him. He wants every ridge and groove of Hoseok's body to fit against his like two pieces of a puzzle slotting together.

When Hoseok moves up from Kihyun's chest, they kiss. Hoseok sucks on Kihyun's tongue and Kihyun palms over the smooth planes of Hoseok's back. He claws at the soft flesh, digging his fingernails into the hard muscles underneath when Hoseok moves down to lick his neck, bite on his earlobe and suck on it. Kihyun feels like he's floating on clouds, perched somewhere far up in the sky, because Hoseok's mouth is so hot and wet and wonderful. Every touch of his lips feels like a glimpse of heaven, like a peek through the curtain at something marvelous and divine.

Hoseok tugs at the silk of Kihyun's choker with his teeth, letting it come undone slowly, teasingly, until Kihyun is whimpering under him. His mouth soft and open around mellow noise, and his fingers tangled in Hoseok's buttery-blonde hair. When Hoseok's lips mouth along Kihyun's neck, they are are hot, nipping at his skin until it's red and bruised, blooming with spots of colour like a canvas. Kihyun presses his lower back down into the mattress when Hoseok kisses down his chest and soft belly, every kiss burning white-hot against his skin. Stopping to bite into the skin of Kihyun's hips and the soft flesh of his inner thighs, Hoseok smiles when Kihyun whimpers and lifts his hips off the bed.

 Hoseok removes Kihyun's choker with careful fingers, holds his slim wrists above his head right next to the headboard. He is gentle whilst tying the length of silk around Kihyun's wrists, so much so that it feels like soft whispers over Kihyun's skin, and Kihyun presses his hips into Hoseok's when he swoops down to suck on his upper lip.

Kihyun wants to wrap his legs around Hoseok's waist, wind his arms around Hoseok's neck and keep him there against his lips so he can moan into his mouth — keep him there for a long, lovely eternity. But when Hoseok presses into him, gentle and careful, Kihyun's knees fall open with a soft whimper. Hoseok hooks a finger under one of Kihyun's thighs, pushing it up and back, and Kihyun cries out, head thrown back against the pillows to bare his neck and fingers curled into the silk of his restraints.

In one swift movement, Hoseok tugs Kihyun closer by his hips to kiss wetly along the column of his throat, sucking on his collarbones when Kihyun lets out a small, excited gasp. All Kihyun sees is white, bright, celestial light clouding all his senses and making him dizzy, because Hoseok is just _too much_ and _too good._

With one last kiss, Hoseok buries his face into Kihyun's neck, breathing over his skin, nipping and sucking so languidly it makes Kihyun's body tingle with electricity. Hoseok's weight is heavy over his own body, pressing down on him with a lovely pressure, like being pushed up against a wall or being pressed into a field of soft, delicate flowers. Kihyun wouldn't mind if Hoseok let the sheets crack open and swallow him whole.

Hoseok fucks him good and hard, with deep, powerful snaps of his hips, each one making Kihyun's back arch so prettily over the crumpled sheets. Every touch, kiss, thrust is like a million fireworks inside Kihyun. At the same time, it's lovely and fervent, like gentle waves beating along the shore. So much so that Kihyun is crying by the time he comes undone, like a ribbon being unwrapped carefully with so much care that it _hurts_.   

It makes him feel _wanted_ and _beautiful_. Especially when Hoseok, coming down slowly, moves to press a sloppy kiss to Kihyun's open mouth before slipping out and rolling over onto the bed next to him.

.

Two weeks later, Hoseok stumbles upon Kihyun in a café, sitting folded up in an armchair, coffee cup in hand, brimming with iced americano, as he chews meditatively at the straw. He's reading a book, fully equipped with a pair of silver, wire glasses. And when Hoseok calls out to him, the pretty dancer almost instantly beams up at Hoseok. It makes Hoseok's knees tremble under his weight, even more so when he notices just how pink and plump Kihyun's lips look, the way his earrings catch streaks of yellow sunlight and the faint freckles speckling the soft skin of his cheeks. Even like this, with Kihyun dressed in loose, comfy clothes and bare of makeup and opulent jewelry, save for that thin, stripe of silk wrapped around his neck, Hoseok feels so drawn to him, like a moth to a flame, because Kihyun is just so beautiful in every possible way.

There's a lump materialising at the back of Hoseok's throat, and he feels like his coffee cup might just melt into his hands, because Kihyun looks so pure and beautiful, practically drowning in fabric and chewing at the end of his straw. Hoseok is immediately reminded of how lovely Kihyun had looked under him, squirming and whimpering for Hoseok, gripping onto him as if he'd die without him.

Hoseok dumbly shifts his weight from his left foot to the right, fiddling with the plastic of his coffee cup. He's fully aware of how Kihyun is looking at him, his eyes sparkling with amusement, his lips curled into a tight, suppressed smile.

“This, uh,” Hoseok starts with a pathetic cough. The fabric of his shirt clings a little tighter to his skin and his throat feels rubbed raw and dry. He can just about _feel_ Kihyun's shoulders shaking with mute laughter. “This is—”

“A surprise?” Kihyun interrupts when he notices Hoseok struggling. He smiles innocently, _sweetly_ when Hoseok finally looks at him instead of staring down at the floor or anywhere _but_ at Kihyun.

With a curt nod, Hoseok runs a hand through his hair, brushing it away from his face. He feels small and transparent under Kihyun's stare, as if Kihyun's picking him apart thread by thread, and he wonders if the dancer has the same effect on others. He wonders whether Kihyun just radiates so much allure that it's intimidating, or if it's just _him_ getting tangled deeper and deeper into Kihyun with every passing second.

Kihyun smiles again. It's a little duller, just a light press of lips, and it doesn't reach his eyes. Licking his lips, Kihyun swirls his straw around in his coffee, watching it knock cubes of ice out of the way.

"Yeah, you, um—” Kihyun swallows and takes a tentative sip of his drink. Hoseok feels his legs going numb under him. “You left in quite a hurry that day. I _was_ going to offer you coffee or something, but you kinda weren't there when I woke up.”

“About that, I'm, uh— I wasn't—” Hoseok stumbles over his words, because Kihyun is looking at him, peering up at him through those pretty lashes of his and he's biting his lip. “I'm sorry, I didn't know if you'd _want_ me to stick around or—” He sighs, pressing his thumb and forefinger to his temples to soothe away the throbbing pain coiling up there. “And I realised later that I didn't even have your number.”

“That's okay. I mean, I can still give you my number if you want,” Kihyun offers with a gentle smile, hopping out of his seat when Hoseok nods slowly. He walks up to the countertop with Hoseok in tow, and settles in front of the glass display that's lined with different gourmet pastries and decorative cakes.

"Hey, Dokyeom,” Kihyun calls out, bouncing softly on the balls of his feet and chewing at his lip as he waits. Hoseok supposes Kihyun frequents the café quite often, because he mouths quick _hi’s_ to a few of the baristas milling behind the counter.

A boy — Dokyeom, Hoseok supposes — walks up to them and flashes Kihyun a big, toothy grin.

“Hi, hyung!” He beams, practically radiating enough light to rival the sun itself. “Can I get you anything?”

 "A pen, please,” Kihyun chimes, drumming his fingers over the glass display. Instead of being adorned by several rings, a lone, silver band sits on Kihyun's right-hand ring finger. It's dainty, made of two thin lengths of silver twisting around each other.

"Or a marker, whatever you've got,” Kihyun adds as an afterthought, and Dokyeom smiles. He fishes a black Sharpie out from his apron pocket and hands it to Kihyun, who takes it with a sweet smile and a soft _thank you_.

Then Kihyun turns to Hoseok, reaching for his hand and holding it tenderly within his own. He knows Kihyun is saying something (it's along the lines of, _you have to promise me you're not some creepy guy looking to harass me_ ), but Hoseok is too busy catching his breath, because Kihyun's hand is so, so warm and so soft, like a bed of delicate flowers, and his lips look so pink and ravishing puckered around the Sharpie cap.

When Kihyun pulls his hand away, caps the Sharpie and leaves it forgotten on the countertop, Hoseok spends what seems like an eternity sharing at the small, rounded numbers scribbled onto his palm in black ink. There's a smiley face drawn at the end, and it reminds Hoseok so warmly of Kihyun's sunshine-smile.

“I work in the evenings, so I'm usually free during the day,” Kihyun says, pushing his glasses higher up on the bridge of his nose with his index. Hoseok can't tell whether Kihyun's eyes are sparkling behind the lenses or whether it's just the sun catching in them. “But you already know that.”

“Right,” Hoseok agrees. He's about to say more, ask Kihyun if he'd like to get drinks or even dinner (if he found him charming enough), until a boy — a friend of Kihyun's, the same dancer Hoseok had spotted Hyunwoo with back at the club — walks up to them and begins to tug at the sleeve of Kihyun oversized flannel, looking luxuriously bored.

The boy grabs onto Kihyun's sleeve, tugs him away towards the door and Kihyun whispers something to him, sharply. 

“Sorry,” Kihyun mouths over his shoulder at Hoseok as he's pulled further and further away. He manages to flash Hoseok a smile just as he walks out, and Hoseok feels the grin stamp itself onto his heart.

At night, Hoseok dreams of Kihyun. He dreams of the beach, soft sand between his toes and the waves chasing his feet. And he dreams of Kihyun's soft smile, the silk choker that seems to always rest over the swell of his throat, his pliant, supple lips and the smooth, velvet-like feeling of his skin under Hoseok's fingertips.

 Hoseok feels light-hearted and floaty when he wakes up, the sun warm on his face and the covers crumpled under him. His heart feels even more fluttery when he sees Kihyun's number, a little smudged around the edges, still scribbled onto his palm.

.

Running into one another — at coffeehouses, cafés, libraries, clothing stores, bars and just around the neighborhood in Gangnam — becomes quite the habitual ritual for them.

During the day, when golden sunlight is creeping over skyscrapers and splattering onto pavements, Hoseok likes to occupy most of Kihyun's time. And Kihyun lets him, because he doesn't mind and because it's nice — Hoseok is nice and lovely, like the sun personified in all its bright glory. They walk around town, trailing through the gem-like streets of Gangnam, sitting around in coffee shops and frequenting that French restaurant Kihyun loves so much but won't admit.

_(“It's too pricey,” Kihyun had claimed one time when Hoseok noticed him peering at the specials board set up outside the restaurant._

_"That's okay,” Hoseok answered easily, shrugging when Kihyun turned to narrow his eyes at him. His pretty, pretty eyes that rendered Hoseok helpless, especially when they caught sunlight in them. “It'll be my treat.”_

_Kihyun only shook his head and spun around to walk away, but Hoseok was faster, and Kihyun had a curtailing arm curling around his waist promptly._

_“You're too reckless with your money,” Kihyun whispered into Hoseok's ear when the blonde ushered him inside, a hand placed on the small of Kihyun's back just to say he's there.)_

And in the evenings, Hoseok always lugs Hyunwoo out to Couture with him (Hyunwoo never rejects, and Hoseok knows it's because of that dancer — the tall, slim one whom Hoseok saw with Kihyun, _Hyungwon_ ). There, Kihyun spends a lot of his time hanging around by the bar upstairs, talking to Hoseok, flirting and being nagged by Changkyun. Halfway into the evening, Kihyun usually winds up in Hoseok's lap, sipping at Hoseok's drink through a straw with Hoseok's hands slipping under his shirt.  

Every time, whether they're making out in one of the dark corners of the club or they're just out for breakfast or brunch, Hoseok is reminded of just how lovely and gorgeous Kihyun is, like some ethereal being crafted by the stars and galaxies. But he's also sweet when he holds onto Hoseok's hand for comfort, reaches to wipe crumbs off Hoseok's lips, lets Hoseok take a sip of his iced tea or when he kisses Hoseok's cheek every time they say goodbye.

It's easy for Hoseok to sink into Kihyun, because he's so addicting and always glowing with this lovely, mellow light. He's adorable and sweet and Hoseok can't seem to get enough of him. It's like being pulled into orbit without even knowing it, gradual and slow, but Hoseok loves it — loves being with Kihyun and loves everything about Kihyun.

The feeling is something Hoseok can't quite grasp between his fingers yet, but it's there, wispy and intangible, hovering somewhere in the depths of Hoseok's heart. And he's okay with that. He's okay with taking it slow, not really knowing where they're going with this, because he gets to learn more and more about Kihyun everyday, a little piece each time.

Over a serving of cake-like French toast, that Hoseok had practically _begged_ Kihyun to try, Kihyun had told Hoseok about the club. About how much he enjoys working there and how it's perfect because Yongguk is considerate and caring and all his co-workers are like family.

Kihyun loves reading, Hoseok came to know — anything light-hearted and sweet, with dramatic undertones. He's especially fond of poetry and Nicholas Sparks books, and he keeps a worn-out, treasured copy of _The Notebook_ on his bedside table.

Turned out, Kihyun also likes clothes — likes to make himself pretty, even though Hoseok thinks he's pretty without as much as trying. And he usually spends an afternoon every two weeks with Hyungwon, winding through the streets of Gangnam and shopping for things they probably don't and won't ever need. It's an endearing attribute, Hoseok had thought. He'd made a mental note to take Kihyun shopping sometime, and he could already picture Kihyun saying something like, _“so are you like Richard Gere and I'm Julia Roberts? Like in Pretty Woman when he takes her shopping.”_

And the conversation somehow eventually steered towards _family_ and _home._ With Kihyun's nimble fingers tracing circles onto his hand, Hoseok ended up telling Kihyun about how it's always been him and his mother since his father stepped out of the picture. He mentioned growing up in his family estate in Busan and later deciding to come live in Seoul, away from the decadence of his _home._ He said he likes music and wanted to become a producer, which he is now. But he never tells Kihyun anything else -- about what his mother does or _why_  exactly he left. 

( _“Well, I kind of figured,” Kihyun had said, shrugging nonchalantly, and pressing the prongs of his fork into their shared dessert._

_Hoseok pried the fork out of Kihyun's hand and tore off a piece of toast himself, holding it up in front of Kihyun's mouth, smiling when Kihyun leaned closer to take it from his fingers. “Figured what?”_

_"That you're, like, filthy rich or something. You probably roll around naked in money,” Kihyun answered around a mouthful of sugary toast. Couture's clientele is mostly people from a high social standing. They reek of money. Kihyun hated it at first, hated how their clothes and skin smelled like crisp, fresh bills, but he's gotten used to it after years of being a stripper._

_"My mother is filthy rich and, no, we do not roll around naked in money,” Hoseok corrected promptly. He nudged Kihyun's foot under the table when Kihyun scoffed. “You can't say that about me. I chose to live here in Gangnam instead of at the estate.”_

_Kihyun smiled tightly as Hoseok's foot hooks around his ankle and rubs and down his calf. “Why did you leave?”_

_After a pause, Hoseok said, "I just had to get away.” He forked a bite of toast into his own mouth, and Kihyun grinned before reaching to brush off a few crumbs from his lips. “Most kids leave home. It's not that big of a deal."_

_Kihyun grinned even wider. Hoseok didn't open up about it --  his family, his home, his mother -- any more, and Kihyun decided to let it go. He pushed the pad of his thumb against Hoseok's bottom lip, gently tugging it down and slowly swiping his thumb over it. “Didn't wanna look like too much of a mama's boy?” He joked._

_Hoseok groaned and gently bit down on Kihyun's thumb, his eyes staring deep into Kihyun's, his heart fluttering at how big, brown and sparkly they looked._

_H_ _e growled, “You're lucky you're so hot,” and Kihyun giggled.)_

It had initially started out as something meaningless and easy. Hoseok had just been a late-night reveller, tucked away into an extravagant club, and Kihyun had him completely smitten, a planet sparkling amidst a constellation of stars. But in the mornings, with pearly sunlight filtering through Kihyun's hair and their skin hot and cool and smooth against each other's under the sheets, Hoseok feels himself slipping. A little further each time, after every blissful night and every kiss, and he hopes he never stops. Hoseok just wants to fall deeper and deeper into Kihyun, in hopes that maybe he can pull Kihyun with him.


	2. Chapter 2

Kihyun's apartment is a minute space above the club, amongst a small cluster of other apartments. It's a lot more quaint and minimal, tucked away from the loud opulence of the club underneath. Kihyun had told Hoseok he prefers to stay close to anything that qualifies as home or a semblance of a home. It feels more so with Hyungwon and Hansol occupying individual apartments next to his own, he's explained.

Hoseok spends his nights here sometimes after Kihyun finishes work, and it really feels like coming home after a long, tiring day. Regardless of the fact that it's Kihyun's home and not his. It still exudes so much warmth and sweetness and familiarity, like bounding into the comforting embrace of a lover.

“I called you, like, a thousand times,” is the first thing Hoseok says, all in one breath, when Kihyun twists the door open.

“And I was stuck waiting outside until Minhyuk showed up and let me in through the back door,” Hoseok continues. “I still don't know how to get up here on my own. There's _way_ too many doors.” His arms are folded over his chest defensively and he's pouting, his bottom lip sticking out so cutely, Kihyun wants nothing more than to kiss it.

But it quickly fizzles away when Kihyun tilts his head to the side and smiles wryly. Wispy pieces of his hair fall over his forehead in messy clumps, still slightly damp from his shower. He's wearing soft, flannel bottoms that hang low over his hips and a loose Knicks sweatshirt. The piece of clothing practically swallows Kihyun up, its sleeves dangling past his fingers and its neckline eased toward his shoulder.

Kihyun looks perfect and small and soft, practically drowning in fabric. And the apartment smells like cinnamon and apples and warm, cozy things beyond the threshold. It's like something right out of Hoseok's dreams — the ones about Kihyun, where he's smiling at Hoseok and laughing as they kiss with the sun setting behind them, the sky painted with strokes of purple and orange.

“I know, I'm sorry. I was in the shower,” Kihyun says as he steps aside to let Hoseok in. He carefully shuts the door behind him and pads into the kitchenette in his socks, tripping over a few clothes strewn over the floor. Hoseok promptly crouches to pick them up off the ground, folding them neatly and placing them on one of the stools lined in front of the kitchen island.

The apartment is a small, studio space, sunlit and minimalistic. There's a small kitchenette tucked away one large corner, a bathroom door to the side, and a coffee table and loveseat in front of the kitchen. A low bookshelf separates the makeshift bedroom — it's complete with a bed, a wardrobe and a vanity — from the rest of the apartment.

 ( _“It's not much,” Kihyun had said the first time Hoseok entered Kihyun's apartment during the day, when it was bright enough outside for him to notice every amenity. He'd been up here before once, the first time he'd met Kihyun, but he'd been too busy losing himself to the feeling of Kihyun's mouth on his own and Kihyun's fingers fumbling to unbutton his shirt. “But it's enough. It's home.”_

_“I think it's perfect,” Hoseok said easily, truthfully. He eyed the few mugs hung up above the kitchen sink and the potted succulents lining one of the windowsills. The whole place had a serene, comforting glow, and it made Hoseok feel all fuzzy inside. “Simple and homey, but elegant. I like it. It's very you.”_

_And Hoseok meant it. The apartment smelled sweetly of tea leaves and blankets and peaches. Hoseok felt like he could fall asleep here, curled up on Kihyun's cramped loveseat with the sun creeping over his face.)_

“ _My God_ , how it always _so_ nice in here? This must be what heaven smells like,” Hoseok muses, leaning over the island that separates the kitchen from the small sitting area. In front of him, across the few feet of floor between them, Kihyun is standing at the kitchen sink, washing dishes, drying them and setting them into an overhead cabinet.

Kihyun laughs, the sound is like windchimes resounding in Hoseok's ears. Hanging a mug on one of the hooks above the sink, he says, “I guess you haven't experienced decent, home-cooking then.”

“I guess I haven't,” Hoseok admits with a shrug. He can only smile brightly, grinning so big and wide that his cheeks ache, as Kihyun turns the tap down, pats his hands dry with a blue washcloth and pads over to him. He stands right in front of Hoseok, on the other side of the kitchen island, and he's leaning in so, so close to him. Hoseok can feel Kihyun's breath crawling over his mouth, cold and minty.

“That's okay. I can change that for you,” Kihyun says through a grin. He shifts a little in place and some of his hair falls into his eyes. Hoseok is quick to brush it away, carefully tucking each strand behind Kihyun's ears. With his hair tucked back and away from his face, Kihyun glows in the muted gold of the afternoon light and Hoseok forgets how to breathe. “I'll dress up like those waitresses in 70’s themed diners with the frilly dresses and everything, and you'll want to keep me forever.”

 _I already want to keep you forever,_  Hoseok wants to say, but he just smiles a little bigger, his eyes sparkling when he hooks two fingers under Kihyun's chin to kiss his lips.

“Sounds perfect,” he says over Kihyun's mouth, heart fluttering when Kihyun smiles against his lips. “It'll be a date.”  

Kihyun hums contently, every inch of him smiling and beaming, and he presses his lips to Hoseok's once more before rounding the island. Hoseok watches fondly as Kihyun picks up his clothes from the barstool Hoseok had placed them on, and walks over to his bed. Like a puppy, one that's been given the promise of a treat, Hoseok trails after Kihyun and sits on his bed, watching Kihyun fold and tuck his clothes away into his wardrobe.

On the right side of the bed, a few textbooks are scattered next to the pillows. Hoseok eyes them for a moment before picking one up — something about aesthetics and philosophy of art (it's one of Kihyun's textbooks for the part-time classes he takes) — and thumbing through the pages. There are sticky notes pressed here and there all over them, with quickly scribbled notes and everything. Kihyun has highlighted parts of the text, too, and the book's spine is worn.

The other books aren't much different. There's one about photography and another about poetry and writing. Hoseok flips through them all, smiling at the tiny notes Kihyun has filled into the sides of the pages, just until he hears Kihyun push the wardrobe doors shut.

“Did you have class today?” Hoseok asks as soon as he feels the bed dip. He's still thumbing through one of Kihyun's textbooks, but he knows Kihyun has crawled up onto the bed. It's not so difficult to tell with the delicate smell of peaches wafting into the air — Kihyun always smells like peaches, Hoseok has observed — and the gentle weight against his side.

Next to him, Kihyun hums. The sound is smooth and melodious, like sweet honey dripping from a comb.

“I did,” he says. “Sometime around noon, I think. Hyungwon picked me up.”

“You could always ask me to come pick you up, too,” Hoseok suggests. He places the book in hand back onto the bed and turns to face Kihyun, scooting back until he's propped up against the headboard.

Kihyun tugs at the sleeves of his sweatshirt, pawing at them and drawing them over his hands even more. He's sitting back on his ankles, knees folded under him, and he looks so small with his hands fumbling in his lap. Hoseok wants to wrap him up in blankets and hold him close. Looking down at his hands, Kihyun says, “I wouldn't want to bother you, though.”

Hoseok frowns. “You won't bother me. I'd actually really like it, to be honest,” he reassures.

After a beat, Kihyun glances up at him, precarious and unsure, peering up at Hoseok through his eyelashes, like a shy kitten. Hoseok wants to hold him, cradle him in his arms and kiss him softly, slowly until he feels like he's perched on clouds.

With a small smile, Hoseok reaches out for Kihyun, an open invitation for him to come closer. “Come here.”

And almost instantly, Kihyun crawls closer and closer and settles himself between Hoseok's thighs, hands on Hoseok's chest and his sweatshirt sleeves draped over Hoseok's shoulders. Hoseok's hands easily come to rest over Kihyun's hips, his fingers slipping under Kihyun's shirt, and he presses his thumbs into the soft flesh of Kihyun's sides.

When Kihyun croons at the touch, Hoseok lets his knees fall open, urging Kihyun to close closer. And he does, scrambling towards Hoseok and pressing himself against his hips, his hands gripping tightly onto Hoseok's shoulders, his eyes wide and bright.

Hoseok's hands swiftly wind around Kihyun's middle, curling under his sweatshirt and around his slender back. He palms over the planes of Kihyun's shoulders, skin against skin, hot and smooth and wonderfully soft. Kihyun feels the air leave his lungs as Hoseok squeezes his hips and pulls Kihyun even closer to kiss along the column of his throat.

“Your hands are so nice,” Kihyun whispers into Hoseok's hair, feeling breathless and blissful as Hoseok mouths at the soft skin of his neck. He's smiling, keening like a pleased kitten, when Hoseok presses his fingers up the curve of Kihyun's spine. “I love your hands.”

Hoseok chuckles, soft and breathy against Kihyun's neck. It sounds a little incredulous, as if Hoseok can't believe Kihyun's really here — really _real_ and really holding onto him. The sunlight spilling in through the windows makes Kihyun look even more ethereal and unreal than he already seems, and for a second, Hoseok wonders if he's looking at an angel.

Kihyun twists his fingers into Hoseok's hair when Hoseok presses a kiss to his jugular.

“Can I read them?” He asks, whispering it over Hoseok's forehead, making Hoseok shudder and stop whatever he's doing.

He tips his head back enough to look at Kihyun, and his fingers lay gently over the small of Kihyun's back, right over the knobs of his spine. They feel like a press of soft lips on Kihyun's skin. “What?”

“Can I read them? Your hands,” Kihyun says again, drawing away a little to settle back down on his ankles, between Hoseok's thighs. With quiet eyes, Hoseok watches Kihyun take his right hand into his own, palm facing up. “I'm not very good. My mother used to like reading palm lines, and I learnt a little from her, but I'd like to try.”

Kihyun looks up at Hoseok hopefully, as if waiting for his approval, and Hoseok nods, laughing quietly. The dancer gives him a pleased smile, beaming like a happy puppy, and squirms a little in place. It sends Hoseok's heart soaring with so much fondness and adoration that he thinks he might die.

Pointing to different lines running across Hoseok's palm, Kihyun says, “So this is your heart line. Some people call it a ‘love line', too. And that's your life line, your marriage line, fate line and head line.” He trails his fingertips over Hoseok's hand and it feels like a soft breeze blowing over Hoseok's skin.

“Your heart line is strong and deep, and it almost cuts all the way across your hand, which is good. Says you're good with emotion and that you're passionate,” Kihyun says, smiling a little at the last part. “Your head line shows you're imaginative and you're easily influenced by emotion. Your fate line shows easy success and the ability to inherit wealth from your relatives and family.”

Hoseok scoffs and Kihyun quickly grins up at him before looking back down at his hand. “Your life line is kind of faded around here,” Kihyun observes, pressing his fingertip over the mound of Hoseok's palm. “That indicates a period of distress and difficulty. Possibly even hurt. And, um—”

He carefully turns Hoseok's hand within his own, and presses his finger to the side of his palm. There's a deep, sharp line right under his pinkie. Kihyun traces it with his fingernail, a soft smile pulling at his lips. Something flickers in the depths of his eyes, and Hoseok wonders if it's hope, a little bit of sadness or just the sunlight sparkling in his eyes.

Kihyun presses his lips together into a thin line, breathes deeply and says, “Most people have two or three marriage lines. You only have one. It indicates a deep, long love. It shows you're a passionate and gentle lover.”

And this time, when Kihyun gently squeezes Hoseok's hand before letting it drop back onto the bed, Hoseok doesn't miss the glint of heartache that flashes through his eyes.

.

"You can sing?” Hoseok asks, his eyes a little wide, his mouth slightly open around a soft gasp. He's standing at the end of the bar countertop, leaning over it and watching intently as Kihyun places glasses back into their respective cabinets under the bar isle.

The club is empty, save for them both and Hansol, who's busy rubbing makeup off his eyes in the VIP lounge bathroom. Couture has closed its doors to the public for the night, and everyone's scurried home. Kihyun had wrestled Changkyun out the door, saying he'd wrap and clean up everything at the bar tonight himself so he can head home (Kihyun had noticed the tiredness in Changkyun's eyes and he just wanted the boy to go home for the night).

Kihyun pushes one of the cabinet door shut and scrambles to his feet. Leaning against the bar isle, his hip pressed into the marble, he coughs quietly. “Who told you that?”

Hoseok shrugs. There's a small, knowing grin tugging at his lips and Kihyun narrows his pretty, dark eyes at him.

“A little birdie told me when you were in-session with one of the clients,” Hoseok answers easily. He smiles a little bigger when Kihyun scoffs and looks away to examine his fingernails. They're painted over with a glittery silver which Kihyun insisted Minhyuk had begged him to try out. “The birdie also told me you used to sing to him so he could fall asleep sometimes.

At that, Kihyun snaps his head up to frown at Hoseok, sputtering and huffing as if he'd been accused of stealing and ruining one of Hoseok's designer jackets (which Hoseok _loves_ to drape over Kihyun's shoulders from time to time). It hits Kihyun slowly, like a bulb flickering before glowing nice and bright _: Hyungwon. He used to sing for Hyungwon at night when the younger dancer had trouble falling asleep._

It was back when Hyungwon had recently started working at Couture. He had been new to this part of Seoul, unfamiliar with its lifestyle and people, and Kihyun was the first to reach out and welcome him. They spent their afternoons together, Kihyun telling Hyungwon about the club and it's modus operandi, introducing him to all the dancers and workers, working through dances with him and getting ready together for the evenings. Sometimes Kihyun would take Hyungwon out to stroll around the neighborhood and he'd leave his apartment door open for him at night. And whenever he'd come to Kihyun, unable to sleep, Kihyun would sing to him in soft whispers, sweet and lovely.

Kihyun's buried so deep in thought, reminiscing the time when Hyungwon was a shy, bumbling newcomer — it seems like _years_ ago. He doesn't even realise when Hoseok grips onto his hips and lifts him up so he can settle down onto the bar isle right in front of him. He doesn't notice how Hoseok's hands gently squeeze his hips or how Hoseok is standing between his dangling legs.

“Maybe you could sing for me,” Hoseok says, finally pulling Kihyun out of his reverie and smiling when Kihyun looks into his eyes and bites his lip. “When I can't sleep or right now, too.”

Kihyun fiddles with the thin chains dangling from his ear and chews at his lip, his eyes fixed on something behind Hoseok's shoulder. “I'm not— I don't—”

"Please?” Hoseok insists, his eyes pleading and begging. He's looking at Kihyun with so much light and hope in his eyes that Kihyun feels himself coming undone at the seams, feels himself crumbling in Hoseok's hands.

    So with a deep, stuttered breath, Kihyun says, “Okay, fine,” and clears his throat softly.

The way Hoseok's expression changes into something so soft and happy soothes Kihyun's nerves and keeps them from skyrocketing, like an anchor holding a ship down.      

He starts off a little clumsy and shaky, the notes folding in on themselves. And Kihyun's fingers fumble to draw the sleeves of his blouse over his palms, his eyes fixed on his hands and shoulders tucked into his sides. Hoseok is looking at him with soft eyes, careful not to make Kihyun feel any more anxious than he is, and he rubs soothing, comforting circles onto Kihyun's hip with his thumb.

But after a while, Kihyun sinks into it, and every note floats into the air, swirling into something so marvelous around them and it's the loveliest thing Hoseok has ever heard. Further into the song, Kihyun lets his eyes flutter shut. His hands ease up over his knees and the tenseness in his shoulders fizzles away. He looks so serene and _happy_ , as if there's no one else in the world and it's just him and his song.

He finishes strong, his voice fluttering so prettily into the air, Hoseok wants it to soak into his skin and bones. Kihyun is like a wave washing over Hoseok, cold and lovely, pulling him in, making him sink. Hoseok thinks if it's Kihyun, he's ready to stay underneath, he's ready to drift and let the waves crash over him. If it's Kihyun, Hoseok would do _anything._

And when Kihyun opens his eyes, slowly, Hoseok can see every eyelash of his fluttering and he can see the soft bursts of red in his cheeks. Hoseok's skin tingles with warmth at the sight, the way it always does whenever he watches Kihyun wake up in the morning, with the sun spilling onto his face and his palms against Hoseok's chest.  

It's even more endearing when Kihyun dips his head down and goes back to chewing at his lip. Hoseok simply wants to hold him and kiss him all over. He wants to tell Kihyun how spectacular he is, just to see every last bit of Kihyun's insecurity and anxiety ebb away.

“Kihyun,” Hoseok breathes, and Kihyun moves to twist his fingers into the fabric of his blouse, feeling small and transparent under Hoseok's eyes. He's wonders if Hoseok can peer into him and see all the thoughts flitting behind his eyelids. “That was amazing.”

Kihyun's eyes immediately flicker up to Hoseok's face, gazing deep into Hoseok's big, brown eyes, and his heart stutters at how sweetly Hoseok is looking at him. So fondly and softly, with so much emotion glistening in his eyes. It makes Kihyun feel lovely and precious, and he _loves_ _it_. “Really?”

Hoseok nods, his lips curled into a small smile. He gives Kihyun's hips a soft squeeze again, pressing his thumbs into the grooves he finds there.

"Yeah, _you're_ amazing and you're so perfect,” he whispers over the crest of Kihyun's cheekbone, pressing his lips there and smiling when Kihyun hums in response. “I can't believe you're real sometimes.”

Kihyun chuckles quietly and tilts his head to kiss Hoseok properly on the lips. And Hoseok kisses back easily, gripping onto Kihyun's hips to hold him in place. Tangling his fingers in Hoseok's soft, buttery tresses, Kihyun wraps his legs around Hoseok's hips, tugging him closer and closer like he wants to fold himself into Hoseok's bones.

Giving Hoseok's hair a quick tug, Kihyun draws away, smiling when Hoseok groans against his mouth. The sound ripples through his body and makes his bones tremble. With his lips brushing over Hoseok's, Kihyun whispers, “Doesn't your mother ever wonder where you are? Or what you're doing?”

Kihyun feels Hoseok stiffen against him for a fleeting second. Then, Hoseok shakes his head gently, careful not to move too much, because everything is perfect, and Kihyun's fingers feel so good in his hair, and his lips feel like silk and butter and everything  wonderful in the world against Hoseok's mouth.

"She's too busy to realise,” Hoseok murmurs, and Kihyun presses his lips to the bow of Hoseok's upper lip. He doesn't know whether it's a comforting gesture, but Hoseok prefers not to think about it too much, because Kihyun is kissing along the seam of his lips with quick presses of his mouth, and it's breathtaking.  

“And I'm too busy kissing you to care,” Hoseok says before surging forward to kiss Kihyun again.

.

Couture serves to an elite clientele, Kihyun tells Hoseok one evening when Hoseok asks him why he spends an hour in the bathroom and in front of the vanity every day.

It’s late in the evening and they're in Kihyun's apartment upstairs, (though Kihyun prefers to call it a room — he says it makes him feel like he has more of a home than by just calling it an apartment). Hoseok is sitting on the edge of Kihyun's bed, watching fondly as Kihyun leans over the vanity, rubbing scented oils into his skin and lining his eyes with black, glittery liner. He's wearing a loose, white blouse that just barely brushes his upper abdomen, and tiny shorts over fishnets, held up by an intricate garter belt. The neck of his shirt hangs over his shoulders, exposing a teasing amount of milky skin and collarbones. He looks gorgeous, especially with that dark, red liptint he's slathered over his lips, making them look so, so red that all Hoseok wants to do is bite them.

“Damn,” Hoseok whispers, licking his lips when Kihyun peers back at him over his shoulder. His voice is so hoarse and low and it's making the small hairs on the back of Kihyun's neck stand upright. “You're beautiful, princess." 

Kihyun grins, laughing quietly as he turns around, full body, and leans back onto the vanity.

“ _Princess?_ ” He repeats, a teasing undertone present in his voice, but his eyes are sparkling so bright, Hoseok thinks they can cut through darkness like lanterns.

“I don't know. Just wanted to try it out,” Hoseok admits, shrugging. With a deep breath, his eyes softening into hues of lovely, brown warmth, he sighs. “You look amazing.” 

A big, sincere smile tugs at Kihyun's lips until he's beaming at Hoseok. The mirth crawls up to his eyes, too, turning them into pretty, little crescents, and Hoseok thinks he might be in love.

And when Kihyun steps closer to Hoseok, a hand reaching for his shoulder, Hoseok hooks a finger into one of the belt-loops of Kihyun's shorts. He tugs him closer and closer until Kihyun falls onto his lap. And then Hoseok's kissing him, hot and wet, with his hands gripping so hard onto Kihyun's hips that Kihyun thinks they might leave pretty bruises. Maybe Hoseok could press him down onto his bed, naked, and take his sweet time kissing the marks later.

But Kihyun knows Yongguk is relentless and Hyungwon is probably going to be grinning at him all night long and Minhyuk won't stop teasing him if he tumbles his way down after making out with Hoseok on his bed for a little too long.

“Hoseok,” Kihyun mumbles against Hoseok's lips. The sound turns into a soft moan when Hoseok presses Kihyun down onto his own hips and nibbles at his bottom lip.

Kihyun palms over Hoseok's shoulders, slowly moving his hands up to cradle Hoseok's face softly. Meanwhile, Hoseok licks into Kihyun's mouth, pressing his thumbs into the narrow crests of his hips and feeling himself slip further and further away every time Kihyun moans into his mouth.

Every touch of Hoseok's fingertips over Kihyun's skin feels like tiny bursts of fire. It's like playing in the flames, burning gloriously, like simmering coals in a furnace. And Kihyun loses himself even more, turning to liquid in Hoseok's hands, when Hoseok licks the side of his neck. He sucks and bites at the skin with Kihyun's hands still cupping his face, and Kihyun throws his head back, baring his neck, and whimpering.

It takes all of Kihyun's strength to keep himself grounded, to not float off and spiral towards the ceiling, because Hoseok's mouth feels _so good_ against his skin, skillful and wet and hot. It's nearly impossible to even think straight with Hoseok kissing his neck, and Kihyun thinks he might melt, like ice on a summer day, and it's so, so good. But Kihyun knows Changkyun’s probably waiting for him to pick up a tray of drinks and get to work.

"Hoseok, they're going to kill me if I'm not downstairs in, like, five seconds. I have _clients_ ," Kihyun whispers, his fingers tangling themselves in Hoseok's hair just so he has something to hold onto. There's a slight tremble in his voice and he sounds so breathy and blissful, and Hoseok wants to tear Kihyun's clothes off and kiss wetly down his chest, belly, hips and thighs.

Hoseok stops sucking on Kihyun's neck and instead mouths at the soft, sweet-smelling skin there. His breath is like petals over Kihyun's skin when he murmurs, “I just can't get enough of you.”

“You're too good and too much and just right in every way,” he says over Kihyun's skin in between gentle, feathery kisses, and Kihyun basks in the lovely praise. Hoseok somehow always knows what to say to make Kihyun's blood buzz with electricity, and he knows exactly how to fill Kihyun's cheeks with colour.

Kihyun's skin burns so sweetly under Hoseok's lips, and he whimpers when he realises Hoseok has left a blooming, crimson mark there. He grips a little harder at Hoseok's hair, pulling him away from his neck and smiling apologetically when Hoseok groans quietly.

With a quick kiss to Hoseok's lips, Kihyun says, “You're going to get me yelled at. I'm supposed to be up onstage first tonight.”

“That's okay. I'll have you all to myself then.” Hoseok surges forward to kiss Kihyun again, smiling triumphantly when Kihyun relents easily.

For a few, sweet moments, Kihyun let's Hoseok suck on his bottom lip, lets him bite and lick as he pleases, before drawing away. A little frazzled, he says, “Okay, now I really have to go.”

Hoseok whines softly, groaning when Kihyun clambers off his lap to peer into the vanity, tousling his hair to messy perfection. He wants to touch Kihyun, kiss him until his lips are bruised and swollen, roll around with him over the sheets like they're the only two people in the world. Hoseok just wants to be with Kihyun all the time — wants to keep him like the precious treasure he is.

Kihyun hops from one foot to the other as he tugs his shoes on, and Hoseok swiftly grabs onto him when he's about to trip over his own feet. With Hoseok holding onto him, an arm looped around his waist, Kihyun laces up his boots and twists in Hoseok's hold. They kiss, Kihyun pecking Hoseok's lips gratefully and smiling up at him before tugging him downstairs.

. 

The music is loud and Hoseok's bones rattle every time the base rips through the club speakers like a gunshot. He can barely hear anything. It's just his skin tingling and sizzling and everything is a dull hum buzzing in his ears, because Kihyun is onstage and he's _dancing_. With time, Hoseok has realised Kihyun just has this easy sense of beauty shrouding him all the time. He just seems so glow, radiant and lustrous, like the summer sun. But Kihyun is especially beautiful when he dances, charismatic and tantalising in every possible way.

Hoseok feels his blood singing in his veins every time Kihyun bops his hip, slides an unfurled palm down his torso or tugs on the leather choker wrapped around his neck. Under the flashing stage lights and sprays of glitter, Hoseok thinks Kihyun looks like an angel bathed in blue moonlight.

He easily struts along the stage, swiveling his hips and walking so luxuriously, like he's gold and emerald and everything everyone wants. His blouse rides up his torso as he turns on his heel. It slithers up the deep curve of his spine so, so languidly when he bends down and slowly drops down into a squat, settling down onto his heels.

Hoseok digs his fingers into the clothed, hard muscle around his knees. He presses deeper and deeper until his skin is throbbing under the denim of his jeans.

“Having fun?” Someone says next to him. The voice is jubilant and sunlit, even through the booming music, and Hoseok slowly looks to the side to see Minhyuk crouched down next to the armchair. There's a tray balanced on his right hand. It's set with shot-glasses, brimming with neon liquor and it shines brightly under the blue lights. It resembles Minhyuk's hair, Hoseok thinks, almost silver, like moonlight.

Hoseok quickly glances back at Kihyun. The dancer has pushed himself onto his hands and knees, sliding back and forth slowly on his palms. His back arches so deeply, perfect like a curved bow, and Hoseok wonders if he's even real. The denim of his shorts slides up with every movement, revealing _teasing_ glimpses of his lacy underwear. Hoseok's heart pounds loudly in his chest, thinking of how he's tugged the same underwear off Kihyun's pelvis with his teeth countless times.

Minhyuk follows Hoseok's coveting stare and grins. “Pretty, isn't he?”

Hoseok swallows hard, watches carefully as Kihyun crawls closer to the edge of the stage, perches himself on his spread knees and lets the guests push bills into the waistband of his shorts. The armchair Hoseok's seated on feels so small and cramped when their eyes meet, even more so when Kihyun gazes deeper into his eyes and licks his lips, slow and teasing.

It feels like it's just them in a bubble, all the other dancers and guests a muffled, lazy hum in the background, because all Hoseok can see is Kihyun, lovely and glamorous with his slim hips and gorgeous face. And all Kihyun can see is Hoseok, looking at him like he's the night sky, inky and speckled with stars and promise — like Kihyun is all he wants, and that makes Kihyun's fingertips tingle with excitement.

"The prettiest,” Hoseok answers and Minhyuk chuckles. He offers Hoseok a drink and taps Hoseok's chin lightly before walking away.

Later, sometime late at night, Hoseok pushes Kihyun down onto that cramped loveseat of his upstairs, pins his wrists above him when he tries to touch Hoseok and kisses him slowly until Kihyun's lips are swollen and bruised and glossy.

Kihyun's eyes are so dark; darker than the late night ocean, and deeper than the sea, filled with so much wonder and lustre that Hoseok wonders if Kihyun cries stars and liquid constellations instead of tears. His eyes glisten delicately in the dim, orange lamplight, his cheeks are filled with bursts of cherry red and his hair forms a dark halo around him. He looks like an angel, some celestial body crafted by the stars and planets themselves. Like something that's made to decorate the inky, night sky.

And Hoseok tells Kihyun how beautiful he is, whispers it over Kihyun's skin, right over that tattoo on his hip. It's a dandelion, plain and black and dotted with random splashes of yellow colour here and there. Hoseok kisses every line, tracing over the tattoo with his mouth, settled between Kihyun's thighs as he teases him open with skilled, lovely fingers.

Right here, wrapped around each other on the loveseat, Hoseok coaxes the prettiest sounds from Kihyun's open mouth. With kisses to his stomach and soft, agape lips, Hoseok fills Kihyun with glorified words of praise, telling Kihyun how lovely and good he is.

With deep rolls of his hips, Hoseok fucks Kihyun slow and tender, steals Kihyun's breath away, takes him to outer space so he can float among seas upon seas of galaxies. And with his lips sucking on Kihyun's neck, Hoseok sends him over the edge with a sharp, _filthy_ cry, and it's glorious and obscene and so perfect.

Hoseok curls himself around Kihyun once they both come down. They lie tangled up on the loveseat, naked, basking in the afterglow of blissful sex and covered in thin, sparkling sheens of sweat. Hoseok's fingers trace comforting, soothing patterns onto Kihyun's hip, right over his tattoo, and Kihyun's soft breaths feel like petals against Hoseok's neck.

“If you had to, would you dance for me? _Only_ me?” Hoseok asks quietly, his voice a hushed whisper tangling itself in Kihyun's hair. He feels warm and soft and previous in Hoseok's arms. It's like being wrapped up in the comfiest, fluffiest sweater, and Kihyun _loves it_.    

It's quiet for a while. Hoseok takes respite in the patterned sounds of Kihyun's breathing and the lazy hum of cars outside. After a few more seconds of silence, he's sure Kihyun has fallen asleep. But just as Hoseok is about to let his own eyes flutter shut, he feels Kihyun shift in his arms a little. Then he feels a soft, pillowy press of lips on the skin between his pecs.

And right when Hoseok is barely straddling the fine line between sweet slumber and consciousness — right when blurry images of sunshine, kisses and beaches start flashing over the backs of his eyelids — he hears Kihyun whisper, “Yes.”

.

Hyungwon dots light face-cream over Kihyun's cheeks, diligently massaging it into his skin with two fingers. It’s cold and it smells like roses and the nightshirt Hyungwon lets him sleep in. He works carefully, a finger hooked under Kihyun's chin, his eyes narrowed and the tip of his tongue sticking out from between his lips.

“You've been smiling an awful lot all day,” Hyungwon says. He taps a fingertip to the edge of Kihyun's mouth, right where it's curled up into a smile. Placing the cream back into the vanity, he reaches for a pot of highlighter. With gently fingers, he gingerly dabs the white shimmer over Kihyun's cheekbones and browbones. “Something happen I should know about?”

Kihyun shrugs, careful not to move too much while Hyungwon's fingers are still pressed onto his skin. “No, not really. Just had a good day.”    

Hyungwon grips Kihyun's chin again and tilts his face up. There's a small makeup brush gripped between the fingers of his right hand now, its tip dusted with shimmery rust. A few other brushes, all differently sized, are lying scattered over the vanity, along with towers of makeup (some of which Hyungwon had lugged over to Kihyun's apartment for the evening). There's so much of it littered everywhere, Kihyun wonders whether some of it belongs to Hansol, too. It wouldn't be very surprising. They all usually get ready together and take turns dressing each other up, and Hansol usually piles all his products and jewelry onto Kihyun's vanity.

Kihyun blinks slowly against the bright light of his apartment and furrows his eyebrows at Hyungwon, as the younger boy sweeps the brush across Kihyun's eyelids and steps away.

“What? You move your head too much,” Hyungwon says. He shrugs and picks up an eyeshadow palette from Kihyun's vanity, deciding to go for a burnt red. Kihyun sighs and closes his eyes, allowing Hyungwon to brush the new colour over his eyelids, near the ends of his eyes and under his browbone. The soft bristles of the brush feel like tiny kisses against his skin. It makes Kihyun think of Hoseok and the soft press of his lips over his own in the mornings.

When he's done, Hyungwon draws away just a little to admire his handiwork, preening like a proud cat. He sets the brush back brown into the vanity and picks up one of Kihyun's lip oils. It's a deep, warm crimson, which Hyungwon has noticed Hoseok likes the most on Kihyun.

And if Hyungwon pays attention, he can tell Kihyun has put in extra effort into his appearance for tonight (except for his makeup, because that's Hyungwon's doing). He's wearing a tight, black boatneck that hugs every curve and slope of his back and waist just a perfectly. Its sides are laced up with crisscrosses of fabric, and it reveals just the right amount of creamy skin. Kihyun's jeans sit low on his hips, too. And a choker, smooth, black silk (the one Hoseok _loves_ undoing with his teeth) is wrapped around his neck.

Humming meditatively as he applies a second layer of lip oil to Kihyun's lips, Hyungwon asks, “So what's this thing with you and Hoseok?”

Kihyun sputters and Hyungwon quickly retracts his hands to keep the colour from going off-track and onto Kihyun's cheeks. As a precaution, Kihyun quickly examines his face in the vanity mirror, and turns back to Hyungwon, his eyes shining and flickering all over the place. “What?”

“What's going on between you two? I mean, I know you slept together — you're _still_ sleeping together — but, like, is that it?” Hyungwon presses, tilting Kihyun's face up yet again by his chin. He carefully lines Kihyun's red, red lips with a reddish-brown lip pencil and gently rubs the colour into the delicate skin with his fingertip.

There have been countless times where Kihyun's thought about them — him and Hoseok — and about how he feels about Hoseok. Hoseok is different and he makes Kihyun feel different, like something wonderful and special. Something had shifted between them, too. Kihyun feels easy and comfortable when he's with Hoseok, and when they fall asleep together, Kihyun wakes up feeling satisfied, happy and _loved_. It's even better when he finishes up a performance and Hoseok pulls him into a corner, kisses him and tells him how beautiful and breathtaking he looks.

While it's all so thrilling and wondrous, there is still this hollow feeling that claws at Kihyun every time Hoseok looks at him, traces of sleep in his smile and a bright sparkle in his eyes. Because he doesn't know if he _is_ special or just a warm, pliant vessel for Hoseok to settle into whenever he wants. And that's something that makes him feel lonely and empty and _scared._

“I don't know.” Kihyun's expression falls, twists into something much more crestfallen, and it makes Hyungwon's heart twinge in his chest. Pressing his knees together, Kihyun pulls the sleeves of his shirt over his palms and twists his fingers into the fabric, his hands balled up tightly over his knees. “We never really talked about it. He hasn't said anything about wanting something more, so I didn't ask.”

Hyungwon works quietly for a while, dotting Kihyun's cheekbones and collarbones with golden dust and Kihyun pulls and tugs at his sleeves, feeling small and fragile, like he'd shatter if someone tipped him over.

Eyeing Kihyun's hands, Hyungwon can see Kihyun's knuckles whitening from fisting his hands so tightly. He eases Kihyun's grip with gentle taps to his knuckles, and says, “You know, when I ran downstairs to give Jeonghan his eyeliner back, I saw Hoseok with Minhyuk.”

Kihyun's eyes immediately flicker up to Hyungwon's face. They are big, glittering and _aching._ When Kihyun is with Hoseok, he feels special and wanted. Just imagining Hoseok with someone else like that — flirting, kissing, _touching_ them the same way he touches Kihyun — has Kihyun feeling like he's had a stitch ripped open. And Hyungwon thinks he might fall to pieces simply over how torn apart Kihyun looks.

“You did?” Kihyun asks, a slight tremor in his voice. He swallows hard and his Adam's Apple bobs in his throat. “What— What were they—”

“He was talking about _you_ ,” Hyungwon says quickly. His voice is smooth and reassuring, and he's smiling. It's a gentle curl of his thick lips, but it drowns out the loud thumping in Kihyun's head and every last bit of anxiety clawing at his insides. “Like, non-stop. About how cute you look when you get a brain freeze, or how embarrassed you get after you sneeze. And he was asking Min all types of stuff about you.”

At that, Kihyun smiles. It's bashful but radiant, and Hyungwon thinks the glossy red of his lips really brings the smile out in full colour, like it's meant to be something that stands out in a jewelry store or an art gallery. 

“He was?” Kihyun asks quietly, brushing his fringe out of his eyes and Hyungwon is quick to pet Kihyun's hair away from his face, careful not to mess it up too much.

“Yeah, it was disgustingly adorable,” Hyungwon says, his lips curling wider when Kihyun laughs. He picks up one of Kihyun's perfumes from the vanity, sprays a cloud of mist over the older boy and sets it back in its spot. Gently grabbing Kihyun's chin, Hyungwon turns his face left to right, examining his work with a pleased grin on his face.

“Okay, we're done. You look _gorgeous_ , he's gonna be drooling all over you all night,” he says, stepping away so Kihyun can stand up and pull on his shoes, laughing as he does so, because Kihyun doesn't mind Hoseok fawning over him all night long, telling him how pretty he is and how much he wants him.


	3. Chapter 3

It's Saturday afternoon. Kihyun's apartment is filled with sunlight, filtering through the shutters in ribbons of orange. The sheets are cotton and soft, pooled up around Hoseok's waist, but they're warm where Kihyun is curled up in his arms, his back pressed against Hoseok's chest and his head resting over the swell of Hoseok's bicep on the pillows.

They're naked under the covers, skin pressed against skin, hot and smooth and lovely. Hoseok can feel every slope and ridge of Kihyun's body against his own, like a key slotting into its keyhole. And Kihyun can feel Hoseok's heartbeat against his back, a rhythmic, soft thump against his spine. It reminds him of ocean waves, gently beating along the shoreline and collapsing into one another.

Hoseok lazily laces his fingers with Kihyun's, pressing softly and bringing his hand closer so he can kiss Kihyun's fingers, his knuckles and the heel of his palm.

“I love these hands,” he says, whispering it softly in into Kihyun's ear and making him shudder. His breath is warm and close, like a summer breeze crawling over Kihyun's skin. It feels familiar and comforting, and Kihyun knows he wouldn't want to be anywhere else.

Kihyun feels Hoseok's mouth over his jaw, hot and prominent. Then, he feels a press of soft lips against his skin. They're like petals, delicate and gentle, and Kihyun's heart swells. Hoseok is always so careful and gentle with him, like he's something precious and loved, and it makes Kihyun want to melt into his bones

“I love this jaw,” Hoseok mumbles over the sensitive skin under  his ear, and Kihyun smiles gleefully when Hoseok shifts to kiss the side of his neck. “And this neck.”

Finally, Hoseok presses two fingers to Kihyun's jaw and turns his head to kiss him properly on the lips. Kihyun's lips glide smoothly under his own, it's like mouthing over sumptuous velvet, and Hoseok's belly pools with tingling warmth, because _it's so, so good._

“And these lips,” he speaks over Kihyun's mouth. Kihyun's eyes glitter prettily when Hoseok peers down at him, and he's warm and pliant in Hoseok's arms. “ _Especially_ these lips.”

Kihyun croons at the praise, smiling softly and blissfully against Hoseok's mouth. He giggles when Hoseok leaves tiny kisses on his closed eyelids and the pretty dimples of his cheeks. 

Humming quietly, he says, “Thank you,” and he really means it.

“I like this.” Hoseok drops his head down to Kihyun's shoulder. He mouths over the smooth skin there, breathes over it, inhaling sweet, familiar whiffs of peaches. It makes his head spin. Everything about Kihyun makes his head spin. He's like rising smoke, lingering on Hoseok's skin, like a lovely halo. A puff of fresh, crisp air without which Hoseok forgets to breathe.

“I like _you_ ," he says so earnestly and easily, it makes Kihyun's core tremble.

“Me, too. I like you, too. You're amazing and you're so nice and you make me feel so good,” Kihyun answers, smiling so bright, it feels like Hoseok is looking at the sun, warm and gold. The dancer twists slightly in Hoseok's hold and makes a soft noise. It's a silent plead for Hoseok to look at him so Kihyun can kiss him. And he does, pecking Hoseok's mouth, softly and sweetly, over and over again with a deep inhale.  

It's perfect and _meaningful_ , because Kihyun is perfect — he's everything Hoseok wants. His lips feel like heaven against Hoseok's and Hoseok is walking on clouds. He wants to web himself into a loop, so he can stay here forever: Kihyun in his arms, Kihyun smiling with the sun spilling over his face and Kihyun kissing him. 

But it's over just as soon as it began, because Kihyun's phone is buzzing on the bedside table, loudly over the piece of light wood. So Kihyun gently pushes at Hoseok's chest, pressing his palm into his ribs, to twist away and reach for his phone. Hoseok whines softly in Kihyun's ear, missing the feeling of Kihyun's mouth on his own, and Kihyun laughs.

He fumbles around with his phone for a while, typing in a few texts, Hoseok supposes. And then he's dropping it down onto the mattress, turning around to kiss Hoseok's lips again and crawling out from under the covers.

Hoseok's body moves on its own, and when Kihyun's sitting on the edge of the bed, the sheets pooled up around his hips, Hoseok curls an arm around his middle.

"Stay,” he says, delicately trailing his fingers over Kihyun's hip. He dips his fingers into a groove he finds there and caresses the soft skin with his thumb. The lines of Kihyun's tattoo are smooth under his fingertips, and every brush of Hoseok's skin against Kihyun's feels like a tiny kiss. “Don't leave.”

Kihyun peers over his shoulder at Hoseok, his lips pulled into a frown, his eyes soft and apologetic. He reaches to stroke the soft skin of Hoseok's cheek with his knuckles, smiling faintly when Hoseok turns his head to kiss his fingers, one by one. 

"You know I have to. I have work outside the club today,” Kihyun answers, cupping Hoseok's face and letting Hoseok kiss his palm and the tips of his fingers. “Hyungwon and I are supposed to entertain at this big, fancy party in the city. Yongguk’s going with us, too. I told you last night.”

“I know. I just don't want you to go. It's okay, just stay. We'll pretend like we're not here, like there's nothing beyond us and your bed. We can stay here forever. No one will know,” Hoseok pleads, curling his arm tighter around Kihyun and sucking on the loose skin of Kihyun's palm, right under his thumb. It's sweet and his skin smells minty and fruity despite having had sex right after he'd showered.

Grinning at the gesture, Kihyun chuckles softly before slipping his hand into Hoseok's hair and leaning down closer to him. “Okay,” he chimes. 

He kisses Hoseok again, sucks on his plump bottom lip, and it feels like the world has stopped spinning around them. And when he draws away, tugging at Hoseok's lip within his teeth, Hoseok's head is full of mist and fog and he sees two of everything. It's like they're painting stories with their mouths, filling each other up with their own emotions and feelings, and it's mind-blowing.

“Okay, but now I _really_ have to go,” Kihyun says. He draws away, and Hoseok whines into his mouth before Kihyun can scramble off the bed. He picks up a shirt from the floor (Hoseok had left it forgotten on the ground earlier when he swiftly undressed Kihyun with hot, deft hands) and tugs it on. It's a soft, blue flannel, riding down to mid-thigh. It's so big on him, practically enveloping his whole figure in fabric and drowning him in it, but Hoseok loves it on him.

Kihyun pads over to his wardrobe, barefoot, and pulls a few blouses off their hangers. They're all either strappy, ripped, held together by ribbons and chains or extremely tiny. His hair is tousled and messy, sticking up in every possible direction and there are purple marks littered over the insides of his thighs. He looks perfect and he's sinking in Hoseok's soul, and Hoseok wants to tug him back into bed, kiss the marks on his thighs and all over the smooth planes of his body.

Instead, he rolls over onto his stomach, buries his face into one of Kihyun's pillows and groans. It's soft and smells fresh and flowery, just like Kihyun, and it speeds up Hoseok's heartbeat.

“I hate this,” he mumbles into the pillow. It comes out all muffled and fuzzy, but Kihyun still hears him and he freezes in place, his fingers hovering over the waistband of his briefs, which he'd just pulled on.

“What do you hate?” He asks, careful and tentative. He sounds quiet, almost as if he's scared to hear what Hoseok has to say, and he is. There's a tightness in his throat all of a sudden, like there are hands wrapped around his throat from the _inside._

“This,” Hoseok says, gesturing vaguely with his hand at nothing in particular. His back is bare and pale, peering out from under the sheets. Tiny, red marks are scratched across his skin where Kihyun had clawed and dug his fingernails into a few hours prior.

Kihyun clears his throat softly and starts to unbutton his shirt. He fumbles nervously with the buttons at the top, picking at the threads of his shirt and shuffles his feet under him, feeling a little cold. If he crawls back into bed next to Hoseok, he thinks, he'll feel warm and comforted and _cherished_ again, and that's all he wants. But Kihyun doesn't move, except for to and fro in place. “Do you want to stop?”

At that, Hoseok quickly pushes up from the mattress and sits facing Kihyun, his blonde tresses wildly messy, like a yellow halo around his head. Kihyun almost smiles at the sight and _almost_ walks over to smooth Hoseok's hair back into place. But the smothering feeling is back again, gripping at his throat with a tight fist, and it's hard to breathe.

Hoseok's eyes are wide and brimming with urgency, as if he's itching to tell Kihyun something, like it's right there, on the tip of his tongue, but he's just holding back. It makes Kihyun want to crumple to his knees and _scream._

“No, I mean, I just—” Hoseok sighs and wrings his fingers together in his lap. Anxiety claws at his insides and he can feel Kihyun's eyes on him, swallowing him in, like damp sand on a riverbank. “It just sucks that this is all I get to do with you. That this is all we are and that you might have something more with someone else, and that someone else isn't-- well,  _me_. I want it to be me." 

Kihyun tucks a wayward strand of hair behind his ear and he fiddles with the small, silver hoop hanging from his earlobe, his eyes glistening with hope. The fibres and muscles in his body ease up a bit and he feels like he can breathe again. “You want more?”

“Well, yeah.”

“What do you want?” Kihyun asks, his voice barely a whisper. Hoseok can feel Kihyun's breath fanning out over his skin, warm and close, even though they're feet apart. Every one of Kihyun's touches seem to linger, a sweet reminder of their time together. It's what keeps Hoseok warm and comforted at night when he's alone without Kihyun is his arms.

  _I want to keep you. I want to be with you,_  Hoseok wants to say. He wants Kihyun, all of him, and he wants to be able to tell him that. So he does, gazing deep into Kihyun's eyes and moving to settle down at the foot of the bed, right in front of Kihyun.

“I want _you,_ " says Hoseok, looking up at Kihyun like he's his everything. Like there's a universe inside Kihyun, with a sun and planets and moons and stars, and it's the only universe Hoseok knows.

Kihyun folds his arms over his torso and curls into himself a little. His belly tingles sweetly and there's something buzzing inside his veins. He can feel it in the tips of his fingers and all the way down in his toes. “But you have me. I'm right here."

“No, not like this. I mean, no— _like this_ , I do want this, I do want you— this— us— the thing— _dammit_ ," Hoseok sputters, and Kihyun smiles tightly when Hoseok drops his head into his hands. He groans softly into his palms before looking back up at Kihyun, his eyes dark and honest. Kihyun's scared he might drown in them.

“I know I have you,” Hoseok says slowly, carefully, as if he's still piecing words together in his head. As if he's unsure and precariously weighing things out in his head, and that makes Kihyun feel comforted. “But I want to _have you_ have you.”

Kihyun smiles and it warms Hoseok's heart. It warms his heart when Kihyun's eyes curve into pretty crescents and his lips curl so nicely. Tracing random patterns onto the floorboards with his toe, Kihyun asks, “Is this your convoluted way of asking me to be your boyfriend?”

Two spots of colour rest high on Hoseok's cheeks, glowing pink and pretty. He coughs quietly behind a carefully placed hand and fumbles with the cotton of Kihyun's bedsheets. “Maybe,” he says, his voice shaking a little. “If you want it to be.”

In the next beat, Kihyun is standing right in front of him. He's cradling Hoseok's face in his hands, soft and tender, and he's smiling so big and bright, Hoseok thinks he might burst from happiness.

“You're so cute,” Kihyun giggles, pressing his thumbs into the swells of Hoseok's cheeks.

Hoseok swiftly wraps his arms around Kihyun's waist, slips a hand under the hem of his shirt and caresses the smooth skin of Kihyun's hip and the curve of his waist. “So that's a _yes_?”

Kihyun laughs. The sound is like birds chirping sweetly in the morning, and Hoseok thinks he could wake up to it everyday, happily. Kihyun drops his hands to Hoseok’s chest, his palms warm over Hoseok's bare skin, and it feels like a lovely kiss.

“Maybe.” Kihyun settles down on Hoseok's lap, knees pressed into the mattress on either side of Hoseok and straddles his bare thighs. He presses his hand into Hoseok's chest, over the hard muscle of his pecs, feeling around for the soft thump of his heart and draping his hand over it.

“If you want it to be,” he whispers and smiles, delicately trailing his index along Hoseok's jaw. He removes his hand from Hoseok's chest and presses a kiss there, right over his heartbeat and Hoseok shudders.

There's gold on Kihyun's fingertips, Hoseok thinks, when his fingers trace over his skin like soft feathers. There are stars in Kihyun's eyes, and his touch his golden and precious when he stokes Hoseok's cheek. And when he kisses Hoseok's mouth, his lips are painted over with gold.

.

The soft breeze ruffles Kihyun's hair and ripples the fabric of his cropped shirt. His shirt sleeves fall past his fingers, and his right hand feels cold clasped around his coffee cup, but the other one is warm and comfortable within Hoseok's. It's comforting, like falling asleep in front of a fireplace and waking up to simmering, warm firewood.

“Thank you. This was a lot nicer than all the times Hyungwon came to pick me up from class,” Kihyun says, fiddling with the frayed piece of cardboard wrapped around his coffee cup. They're standing outside a Starbucks on campus, and Kihyun's gently pushing up on his toes as Hoseok adjusts the silk choker around his lover's throat.

It's a little after noon. The sun is bright and gold, perched over thick, fluffy clouds. There's a brown, messenger bag slung over Kihyun's shoulder, packed with two textbooks, sticky notes and a pen. It slides down his shoulder a little when Kihyun reaches to brush a knuckle against Hoseok's cheek, and Hoseok promptly pushes the strap back up.

“Yeah?” Hoseok grins and hooks two fingers under Kihyun's chin, tilting his head up and kissing him. It's quick and sweet, and Kihyun thinks he might melt into the concrete under him. “Maybe you should let me pick you more often then. You know, now that I'm officially your boyfriend and not just some guy you're sleeping with.”

Kihyun laughs. It's like small bells tolling in Hoseok's ears, painting him with so much mirth that he thinks he might burst. He kisses Kihyun's forehead and slips his hand back into Kihyun's, giving it a soft squeeze and tugging gently.

“I should get you back home. Minhyuk said something about wanting to have lunch with you and then trying out a new makeup look for the evening. I _know_ he'll kill me if I keep you for too long,” he says, smiling when Kihyun groans and leans his head onto Hoseok's shoulder. Minhyuk usually sits Kihyun down in his room upstairs and tests out new colours and techniques on him. And Kihyun lets him, because the praise and attention he gets is nice, and because it saves him from the headache of getting ready on his own.

Hoseok noses Kihyun's hair in a sweet, heartwarming gesture when the dancer makes a soft noise of protest. 

"I don't want to let you go. Not yet,” Kihyun murmurs into Hoseok's shirt. His voice rumbles against the older boy's skin. “Not when you _just_ got here.”

“I'm sorry, angel,” Hoseok mumbles into Kihyun's hair. It smells fluffy and sweet, like strawberries and almond and cream. He feels Kihyun winding an arm around his neck digging his head deeper into his shoulder. The added pressure is like a lovely kiss, and Hoseok revels in it. He smoothly wraps his own arms around Kihyun's waist and tugs him even closer. “I don't want to leave you either.”

Kihyun presses up on his toes and placates a kiss on Hoseok's jugular, his lips soft and warm. “I wish you could stay."

Hoseok draws away a little, and when Kihyun looks up at him, he swoops down to kiss his mouth. His hands are big and warm on the bare skin of Kihyun's back, and he dips his fingers into the curve of Kihyun's spine, pressing over the small knobs he finds there.

“I do, too, baby,” he says, and Kihyun sighs into his mouth, his eyes fluttering and arm hooked tightly around Hoseok's neck. Kihyun fits perfectly in Hoseok's arms, and Hoseok wants to keep him there forever. “But I've got work to do, too. I'll see you in the evening, though.”

At that, Kihyun blinks and his eyes sparkle when he smiles. Hoseok feels the curl of his lips against his own mouth, and he's quick to peck the swell of Kihyun's lips. “You're coming tonight?”

Hoseok thinks about the club: lights, loud music and Kihyun dancing and laughing when Hoseok pulls him into a corner. He grins, too, tightens his arms around Kihyun and lifts him up gently. When Kihyun laughs, Hoseok promptly noses his cheek before pressing a kiss there. “I wouldn't miss seeing you for the world.”

.

A soft thud echoes and then there's footsteps, light and careful. Hyungwon is slowly eased out the sweet wrap of slumber he's nestled in as the sleep unclouds his senses. It suddenly smells of peaches and honey, and he instantly knows it's Kihyun.

 _"_ Can’t sleep?” Hyungwon asks when he feels the mattress dip and a warm body pressing into his side. He turns over onto his back and lays an arm out over the pillows, humming when he feels Kihyun dig his head into the soft flesh of his bicep.

The wind howls loudly outside, blowing in the smell of wet grass and flowers through the crack in Hyungwon's window. It smells like rain and summer, and the moonlight is warm pouring in through the windows.

Kihyun shakes his head softly. It's dark and everything is a mess of black lines and shapes, but Hyungwon can tell from the brush of Kihyun's hair over his skin.

The nightshirt Kihyun's wearing is thin cotton. It's Hoseok's, so it's quite large and covers most of Kihyun's dainty, willowy figure, falling over his knees, and it's comfy. It smells like Hoseok, too — citrusy and woodsy and _perfect_. Kihyun's heart feels tight, like all its muscle contracted at the same time. He curls his fingers into the thin, sweet-smelling fabric and whispers, “Felt cold.”

Hyungwon purses his lips slightly. He knows that's just another way for Kihyun to say he's lonely and he misses Hoseok. Still, he reaches out over to his side of the bed, palming around for the extra throw he keeps folded there. His movements are a little sloppy as be unfolds it and drapes it over Kihyun's curled up form.

“You were thinking about Hoseok again, weren't you?” Hyungwon asks again. He feels Kihyun squirm around a little next to him, and he knows he's pulled a thread. Kihyun always gets fidgety and uneasy whenever someone sees a glimpse of him through all the walls he puts up, and Hyungwon wonders whether it's a habit Kihyun picked up from him or it's something he'd always done.

“Maybe.” Kihyun sounds small and breathy, like he's scared of admitting it. That if he said _yes_ , it would become real and something he won't be able to take back. Hyungwon's heart turns over in his chest, and he twists his arm under Kihyun's head a little to stroke his hair. It's something Kihyun always used to fall asleep to whenever he crawled into bed next to Hyungwon, saying he has a headache or some body pain. “He's just so good to me, and we're right at that stage where it's just about sex and talking, and sex and talking. I can't help but think about him. I just want to be with him all the time.”

Hyungwon chuckles quietly. His voice is still gravely and raspy from being pulled out of his slumbering state, but Kihyun doesn't mind. He likes it, because it reminds him that Hyungwon's just human, like him, and it reminds him that he's human himself, too. 

"I can tell,” he says. He presses the pads of his fingers into Kihyun's scalp, massaging more thoroughly when he hears Kihyun sigh in response. “Talk to me. Perhaps you'll miss him less if you talk about him.”  

The mattress dips yet again as Kihyun flips over onto his stomach, his arms folded under his head on the pillow and his cheek pressed into his forearm. His eyes look beady and black in the dark, like dark stars twinkling in the sky. It's unsettling, but Hyungwon loosens up when Kihyun takes his hand within his own to play around with his fingers.

Hyungwon sees a glimpse of white. He assumes it's teeth and thinks Kihyun is smiling, and he hears it in Kihyun's voice when he speaks. “He's just so sweet and he makes me feel like I'm worth it, you know? Everyone I've ever been with made me feel like either this or that. But he doesn't treat me like I'm some object that's just there to please people and look pretty. And he doesn't think of me as less of a person or someone he's better than because of what I do.”

Humming, Hyungwon lets Kihyun fiddle with his fingers and with his other hand, he rubs Kihyun's arm in slow, smooth circles. He can feel Kihyun's emotion, bright, wonderful and colourful, seeping into his own skin, like water soaking up into a sponge.

Then softly, _happily,_ Kihyun says, “He makes me feel like _gold,_  Hyungwon.”

And through the dark, Hyungwon can see Kihyun's smile, because it's shining so bright and beautiful. It's like a canopy of stars glowing on a clear, summer night and he thinks it could light up the cloudy, black sky outside.

.

When Hoseok _finally_ brings Kihyun out to his penthouse in Gangnam, Kihyun really feels like his breath has been stolen away. The place is huge, sunlit, glowing with a sublime golden light, all windows, glass panels, wood and walls painted white and grey.

The ground floor is a vast sitting area, complete with chaise lounges, recliners and glass tables. A staircase winds up to the upper tier near the door, there's a small, mini-bar tucked into a corner of the room, a large, geometric bookcase set along the wall which isn't lined with glass panels and floor lamps placed here and there.

The room cuts into a wide corridor of sorts at one end, leading into an open kitchen, all marble, steel and glass. And while Hoseok shows Kihyun around, tugging him along gently by his hand, they make out on the kitchen island, Kihyun settled on top of it and Hoseok standing between his legs.

Hoseok's hands are hot and so wonderful on Kihyun's skin, slipping under his shirt and palming over his hips and back. In one fluid movement, Hoseok unbuttons Kihyun's jeans and makes him see stars — makes him sing his name in lovely, gentle whispers. Kihyun's mouth is soft and open around soft gasps and his fingers feel so good in Hoseok's hair. He feels like he's afloat, being lifted up into the sky by a million balloons.

The upper level is mostly two bedrooms, one of which is fitted with an en-suite bathroom. Even upstairs, the walls of every room are lined with glass panels that peer out at the glittering streets of Gangnam. Tall buildings of steel and glass and streaking car lights set against the late afternoon sky, painted with sunset oranges and corals.

“It's lovely,” Kihyun says softly, a palm pressed lightly against one of the glass windows in Hoseok's bedroom. He's propped up on a cushioned bench on one knee, staring out at the city, watching it glitter under the setting, gold sun. Hoseok wants to press Kihyun against the glass, make love to him with their hands entwined so they can write stories over the fogged up window.

Hoseok slowly comes up behind him, his arms wrapping around Kihyun's middle like a snug, soft sweater. He kisses down the side of Kihyun's face, wetly mouthing along his jaw, caresses his clothed belly with warm hands, and Kihyun leans his head back onto Hoseok's shoulder.

“No, you're lovely,” Hoseok whispers in Kihyun's ear, hot and low, and Kihyun believes him. He hums contently at the praise, arching his back against Hoseok's chest when Hoseok sucks on his earlobe.

When Hoseok moves back down to his jaw, Kihyun tilts his head slightly, baring the side of his throat and sighing as Hoseok kisses along his neck. Hoseok's hands slowly slip under Kihyun's shirt and he palms over the smooth curves of his torso. His touch burns. It's hot and lovely on Kihyun's skin, a trail of blue flames. And Kihyun basks in it, pressing back against Hoseok's chest and gasping wetly into the air, feeling it buzz as it sweeps through his lungs.

Hoseok pushes his hands under the waistband of Kihyun's sweats and his briefs, and it throws Kihyun over the edge into pools of galaxies and stars. Kihyun whimpers, his knees shake under him, and he's melting, coming undone and unraveling in Hoseok's hands, and it's amazing. He feels hot all over, burning white like something ethereal. And Hoseok tells him that, tells Kihyun how beautiful he is, whispering it softly in Kihyun's ear.

"Baby, you're glowing," Hoseok says, low and smooth over Kihyun's ear. And Kihyun cries out, broken and weepy. He fumbles uselessly for Hoseok's hand to have something — _anything_ — to hold onto, and Hoseok promptly entwines their fingers and kisses corner of Kihyun's lips.

"Hoseok,” Kihyun breathes, his voice trembling and shaking, just like he is in Hoseok's arms. There's warmth sizzling low in his belly and all over him, from his toes to the tips of his fingers, and Kihyun just wants Hoseok — all of him. He wants Hoseok to make him feel good — he _needs_ it, like a desert thirsting for water. _"Please_. I— I need—”

And Hoseok is quick to press down on Kihyun's hand gently and kiss his open, soft mouth. It's heartwarming how he always knows what Kihyun needs and what Kihyun wants and how he wants it.

"It's okay, shh. I have you, baby, I have you,” he says quietly, murmuring it into Kihyun's hair and pressing a kiss to the curve of his jaw.

Hoseok hooks an arm under Kihyun's thighs and another under his shoulders in one fluid movement, and then he's carrying him to the bed and laying him down gently over the sheets. Kihyun's feels like his heart is about to burst from the way Hoseok is looking at him, eyes hooded and shimmering, like precious jewels. Kihyun thinks he can see heaven in them.

With slow, loving hands, Hoseok undresses him, like he's picking petals, _gently,_  and then moves to undress himself. Kihyun licks his lips and lets his eyes skitter over Hoseok's bare body. They flicker up to meet Hoseok's eyes when Hoseok leans down over him, kisses him with a deep inhale and then kisses Kihyun all over. He treats the faint moles on Kihyun's skin as targets, kissing over his shoulders and chest and stomach with light presses of his mouth. It's like Hoseok is mapping Kihyun with his mouth, burning every detail of Kihyun's body onto the back of his eyelids and taking his time to show Kihyun just how lovely he is.

Hoseok’s mouth trails lower and lower until he bites into the soft flesh of Kihyun's hips. A sharp, shuddered gasp leaves Kihyun's lips and his fingers twist into the sheets, his back arching against the bed.

“ _Hoseok_ ,” he breathes out, a little broken and thread-thin as Hoseok kisses over the reddening skin. Soft sounds spill from Kihyun's lips and everything feels hazy and adrift with Hoseok's mouth sucking on the sensitive skin there.

Kihyun looks lovely sprawled under Hoseok, panting and naked with a gentle sheen over his skin. His face is softly framed by messy, brown tangles of his hair and his eyes are big and bright. He's gleaming in silver and pinks in the warm sunlight, and Hoseok's eyes burn with love and desire. It's endearing and Hoseok feels his heart spilling with _so_ much love that he wishes they could have slow, sappy, _romantic_ sex all night long and cuddle after.

"You're so pretty,” says Hoseok, smiling when Kihyun moans at the praise, squirming over the sheets and curling his fingers into the soft cotton. Hoseok wraps his palm around the back of Kihyun's thigh, pushes it up and back, and presses his mouth to the soft skin there.

"So, so pretty, Ki,” he mumbles in between kisses, starting from the bend of Kihyun's knee and down to the curve of his ass.

Hoseok nudges Kihyun's knee a little to the side, smiling when Kihyun hooks his leg over his shoulder, his heel pressed into Hoseok's back to pull him closer. With tiny, fluttering kisses, Hoseok skims over the inside of Kihyun's thigh. He stops to press a wet, open-mouthed kiss there, licks at the smooth skin and pulls the supple flesh between his lips first, then bites down on it. It leaves Kihyun a shuddering, _whimpering_ mess under him, fingers scrambling to find purchase in the sheets.

By the time Hoseok lets go of his thigh, Kihyun is sobbing and pleading for him. With shaky hands, Kihyun reaches for him, his lips red and swollen from being bitten down on, and Hoseok promptly bends down over Kihyun and kisses his bruised bottom lip, chaste and sweet. When Hoseok draws away, settles between Kihyun's thighs, Kihyun's knees fall open, almost flat over the bed, and Hoseok lifts Kihyun's hips up off the mattress. Every touch feels like a ripple of crimson warmth over Kihyun's skin now, and every time Hoseok looks at him, Kihyun breaks a little more. It's _too much_ and _too good_ and Kihyun can't get enough.

Careful and gentle, Hoseok works Kihyun open, and it's slow and easy. Kihyun's burning all over by the time Hoseok's got three fingers in, knuckle-deep. Every muscle and fibre in his body feels tight and pulled taut, like a bowstring that's ready to snap.

But when Hoseok finally fucks him, _makes_ _love to him_ , it's slow and tender, and Kihyun forgets how to speak, every inch of his skin sizzling. He's moaning high and so, so loud, whispering Hoseok's name like a mantra where his lips are pressed into Hoseok's throat, and gripping onto Hoseok's back. It's a little different every time Hoseok takes him, and right now, Kihyun feels like he's floating on water, waves rippling gently under him, cold and warm on his skin.

It's overwhelming, so much so that Kihyun's crying by the time he comes. His eyes slip closed, mouth soft and open and raw around quiet sobs, and lashes wet against his cheeks. His tears are gold, like lemonade, and they burn so sweet as Hoseok kisses them away. He feels light and weightless, like a feather drifting slowly to the ground.

And Kihyun is sure he'd blacked out from fervour of it all, because when he opens his eyes again, he's clean and dressed in one of Hoseok's shirts, and Hoseok is sitting next to him, propped up against the headboard.

The bedroom is filled with soft, warm light, glowing from the reading lamp on Hoseok's bedside table. Everything is still a little blurry, and Kihyun has to blink slowly a few times for the fog to finally uncloud his eyes. Hoseok's hair is damp and a nuance darker than his usual buttery-blonde shade, and he looks clean, fresh out of the shower. There's a pair of chunky Ray-Ban’s perched on his nose and he's cradling a book in his hands. Kihyun has to squint a little to read off the cover and he smiles when he's able. _The Notebook,_  it reads.

Kihyun rolls over onto his side. “You're actually reading it,” he says. His voice is raspy and raw from having worn it out and his cheeks are shining in a soft pink from the afterglow.

Hoseok's expression immediately softens when he looks down at Kihyun. It's like looking up at a clear blue sky, painted over with a rainbow, after a storm.

“Oh, hi there,” he beams, smiling so bright and big as he reaches to brush some of Kihyun's hair away from his eyes. “I didn't expect you to be up so soon. You were completely passed out.”

Kihyun hums and shifts closer to Hoseok across the few inches of mattress between them, snuggling into Hoseok’s side and throwing an arm over his thighs. The sheets are pooled up around Kihyun's middle and around his legs, leaving his toes to peek out from under. He presses them into the soft muscle of Hoseok's calf.

“What time is it?” Kihyun asks, still rubbing up and down Hoseok's leg with his foot, pressing cold skin into the soft flesh.

“A little after eight,” Hoseok says, his voice is a low, smooth hum, his fingers tangled in Kihyun's hair. He massages Kihyun's scalp with his fingertips, near his temples, his hairline and the base of his skull, reviving a long-forgotten ache and soothing it away again. It's comforting and Kihyun wishes he could crawl up into Hoseok's shirt pocket and stay there for eternity, right next to his heart.

There's a lull in the conversation. Hoseok keeps petting Kihyun's hair, smiling when Kihyun practically purrs in response and nuzzles closer into Hoseok's warmth. Other than that, it's quiet and comfortable, with Hoseok immersed in reading his book and Kihyun lazily running his fingers over Hoseok's clothed chest.

And then Kihyun's shifting a little in place and pressing his fingertip to the cover of Hoseok's book. When Hoseok looks down at him, peering through his glasses and hair falling into his eyes, Kihyun says, “I didn't think you'd really read it.”

Weeks ago, Hoseok had been palming through the books in Kihyun's bookshelf. It was just a pastime while he waited for Kihyun to shower and change out of his work clothes so they could go out for drinks. But Kihyun had padded out the bathroom, smelling all fresh and flowery, and it made Hoseok's head spin.

So when Kihyun pushed one of his favourite books into Hoseok's hands with a big, pretty smile on his face, Hoseok couldn't think straight and ended up agreeing to read it. Nevermind the last time he picked up a book was for his literature class in high school. But if it's for Kihyun, he'd do it, Hoseok decided, and pulled Kihyun's book out from where he'd tucked it into his pillowcase.

“Oh, yeah,” Hoseok answers, grinning. He pulls off his glasses and sets them on the bedside table with his book. “You told me to, and I thought I'd try it out. I'm already two-hundred pages in. I'm on a roll,” he beams proudly and Kihyun giggles. Hoseok swears he feels butterflies filling his belly, because Kihyun's smile is perfect and big around his soft breaths and his eyes are warm and brown. Hoseok thinks he can see the sun in them.

Kihyun reaches to card pieces of Hoseok's fringe away from his face, stopping to cup his cheek ever so gently. Hoseok brings his own hand up to rest over Kihyun's, and turns his head to kiss Kihyun's palm.

“So it's not so bad?” Kihyun asks, smiling and tracing the soft lines of Hoseok's lips with his thumb.

Hoseok shakes his head gently, pressing a kiss to the pad of Kihyun's thumb. “No, I like it. I really do.”

Chuckling, Kihyun gingerly bumps his knuckle against Hoseok's nose in a sweet, heartwarming gesture.

“Okay,” he says softly, his eyes glittering. And Hoseok looks at him with quiet, loving eyes, absorbing him and feeling his heart dip every time Kihyun's gaze flickers down to his lips. In the next moment, Hoseok's swooping down to kiss him, inhaling slowly as he does so.

Kihyun's mouth feels like heaven against his own, supple and pliant, like a canopy of plush, soft feathers. Hoseok feels like he's transcending, especially when Kihyun winds his arms around his neck. Kihyun threads his fingers through soft, small hairs there.

After a few moments, Hoseok draws away with a soft, wet noise. He quickly pecks the corner of Kihyun's mouth, leaving Kihyun humming contently. His heart thrums against his ribcage when Kihyun's eyes flutter open slowly and gaze deeply, meaningfully into Hoseok's.

“I got you something,” Hoseok says over Kihyun's lips. He combs his fingers through Kihyun's soft, brown hair and kisses the tip of his nose, smiling when Kihyun giggles in response. “A little gift.”

“A gift?” Kihyun asks excitedly, resembling a puppy who's just been given the promise of a treat.

"Yeah, come bere.” Hoseok sits back up, pressed against the pillows and tugs on Kihyun's hand. “Sit up with me,” he says, and Kihyun obliges easily, settling down right in front of Hoseok, his legs folded under him and their knees touching.

Hoseok leans over the side of the bed and pulls his bedside drawer open, fumbling around for a while before fishing out a box. It's the size of his palm and wrapped neatly in pink tissue. There's a length of white ribbon securing it together, tied off into a pretty bow at the top.

“I was out with Hyunwoo the other day and I saw this. It immediately made me think of you, and I just couldn't help myself,” Hoseok explains as he places the box in Kihyun's open hands.

He watches Kihyun tug the bow undone with gentle, careful fingers. Next, he removes the tissue and unveils the box. It's hard cardboard, coloured in light pastels and decorated with splatters of watercolour flowers. It's pretty and Kihyun's belly swoops knowing how much effort and thought Hoseok put into this _. All for him._

Slowly, he eases the lid off and his breath leaves him for longer than he deemed possible. Inside, pressed snugly into a cushion, is a thin chain. It's silver, like the warm light of a full moon, and delicate, like a rose. 

“It's a necklace,” Hoseok says when Kihyun all but says something himself. There's a slight tremor in his voice and his heart beats loudly in his chest, his blood roaring in his ears. “I've noticed you have chokers and a few collars, but you don't really have a chain. And this isn't very big either, so I thought it might suit you.”

Hoseok reaches with shaky fingers to pry the necklace out of the box, and he holds it delicately in his hands. “Turn around for me,” he instructs, and Kihyun promptly turns to sit facing away from Hoseok, back on his ankles.

 He's chewing at his lip and his fingers are curled into the sheets as Hoseok gingerly places the chain around his neck and fastens the tiny clasp at the back. It looks lovely hanging around Kihyun's throat, like a silver thread pressed into his papery skin. Hoseok trails his fingers over it gingerly, tracing a line where the chain rests over the base of Kihyun's throat.

Leaning closer, Hoseok presses a kiss to the nape of Kihyun's neck.

"Beautiful,” he says, kissing the sensitive skin behind Kihyun's ear this time. “It looks beautiful on you.”

Kihyun twists slightly in place, just enough to look back at Hoseok. And he smiles, revealing a glimpse of perfect teeth.

“I love it,” he whispers, taking the chain between his fingers. “So much. Thank you.”

Hoseok shakes his head and brushes a stray tendril of hair away from Kihyun's face, tucking it behind his ear.

“Don't,” he says, cradling the base of Kihyun's skull and bringing him closer to kiss his forehead. “This is nothing.”

"But it's everything to me, just like you,” Kihyun answers, looking up at Hoseok and letting his brown, pretty eyes sink into Hoseok's. Slowly, he leans in to kiss Hoseok on the lips, a chaste, amorous press of his mouth, and Hoseok thinks, _I love him, I love him, I love him_.

.

"Did you ever want to be something else?” Hoseok asks, his arms folded snugly around Kihyun's middle, his mouth pressed to the nape of Kihyun's neck. There, over the soft, delicately fragrant skin, Hoseok leaves tiny kisses with tender presses of his lips. Kihyun huddles closer to Hoseok in response, snuggling back into his chest. The bathwater ripples slightly with the movement, and Hoseok's skin is warm and wet against Kihyun's back.

They're at Kihyun's, curled up in the tub, their skin gently glistening covered in bubbles and soapy water. Kihyun is settled between Hoseok's thighs, his head leaned back onto Hoseok's shoulder, the side of his throat bared and chin tipped up. From time to time, he presses a fingertip to Hoseok's forearms, which are curled around him, and traces the faint blue lines of Hoseok's veins. The bathroom smells sweetly of shampoo, soap and bath salts, but Kihyun smells even lovelier, like powder and peaches and flowers, and his skin is so, so soft. Hoseok wishes he could pillow his head on Kihyun belly and fall asleep with Kihyun's fingers in his hair, and mouth all over his body, pull his supple flesh between his lips.

Kihyun hums softly, meditatively, his eyes closed, his lips pink and soft. Hoseok feels the sound rumble in his chest. It reminds him of a cat, nuzzled against his chest and purring softly. He feels a burst of fondness and love at the thought, and nuzzles the side of Kihyun's face, kisses the shell of Kihyun's ear and pulls his earlobe into his mouth.

“I wanted to take up theatre when I was younger. And I liked ballet. I've always liked dancing.” Kihyun says, bringing a hand up to fist his fingers in Hoseok's hair. He makes sure to keep his grip gentle and light. It's only encouragement for Hoseok to keep caressing his skin with his mouth. With time, Hoseok has come to realise how much Kihyun loves being spoiled and showered in attention and small, loving gestures. Like receiving kisses and sweet praises, cuddling after sex, when Kihyun gets especially sappy and touchy, and when they wake up in the morning. He's found out little things about Kihyun, like his likes and dislikes. When they're cuddling, Hoseok has learned Kihyun likes Hoseok using his mouth, just to leave chaste, little kisses over his neck and shoulders, and he especially likes Hoseok's fingers and palms hooking over his hips.

So Hoseok moves his hands a little, palms over the smooth curves of Kihyun's belly, stroking the skin there with his fingers and delicately trailing fingertips over the gentle ridges of Kihyun's ribs. He remembers leaving several marks there earlier, remembers how Kihyun pressed his back into the mattress and threw his head back over the pillows, writhing and squirming under Hoseok. He lowers one hand down to Kihyun's hips, dips his fingertips into the groove he finds there. “Is that why you decided to be a dancer?”

Kihyun shakes his head slightly, his damp hair brushing lightly  over Hoseok’s shoulder, like a caress of fingertips against his skin in the morning when Kihyun traces the hard lines of Hoseok's chest. “Not really, no," he says. 

Hoseok presses a little harder onto Kihyun's hip, kneads the soft flesh there with his palm and Kihyun moans softly in his mouth. A soft ache throbs where Hoseok's hand massages him, and Hoseok kisses under Kihyun's chin in a sweet, apologetic gesture. “My mother was a dancer. I was really young when she died — sixteen, seventeen maybe — and I started to work at the same club she used to.”

 Hoseok thinks of the boy he'd seen the first time he'd come to the club. He thinks of silver hair, a thick, gold choker and a young face. The boy had barely looked eighteen, and with a tight heart, Hoseok thinks of a sixteen year old Kihyun swinging around a pole and winding through hungry crowds, dressed in chiffon and silk that rides up his stomach, and offering body shots. It sparks something deep inside him, revives a long-forgotten ache, a need to protect Kihyun, wrap him up and keep him safe from everything terrible in the world.

By instinct, Hoseok curls his body around Kihyun a little more, like he's trying to tuck him away into himself, and digs his face into the crook of Kihyun's neck.

"What was it like?” Hoseok asks, breathing it over the slope of Kihyun's neck. “Where you worked before,” he emphasises. Against him, he feels Kihyun's shoulders tighten, like all the muscles and fibres under his skin pulled taut. 

“It was.” Kihyun swallows. He shifts in place a little between Hoseok's legs, his hands clasping and unclasping over his thighs. “It was different. Nothing like Couture,” he finishes slowly, a slight tremor in his voice.

He's gone rigid all over and his frame quivers with every breath, and Hoseok's heart twists at the thought of Kihyun reliving some afflicting, past memory. He bites the insides of his lips, tries to swallow down the tears pooling up behind his eyes. Instead, he tries to keep Kihyun from shaking by wrapping an arm around the front of his shoulders and another around his waist, hugging him close and feeling his heart fall when Kihyun grips onto his arm, like he's trying to anchor himself and just _hold on_. 

“Baby, it's okay. It's okay,” Hoseok whispers softly. His voice is a calm, soothing lullaby. Kihyun wonders if that's what he sounds like to Hoseok when he sings for him. Gripping gently onto Kihyun's shoulder, Hoseok presses his thumb along the crest of his collarbone, repetitive and soothing. He tries to draw Kihyun's attention to the spot he's rubbing and away from what he's thinking of. Whatever suppressed, _painful_ memory Kihyun clawed out from the depths of his mind — whatever that's causing him so much torment — Hoseok wants it gone. He wants to reach into Kihyun's skull and unfold the soft, grey matter. He wishes he could untwist all the thick, awful knots and tangles he finds there, wishes he could drown out everything that's ever hurt Kihyun, so he can see the light in eyes without anything there to dim it.

“It's okay, you're okay. I'm right here, baby,” Hoseok says again, hoping Kihyun can't hear how broken his voice sounds now. He nuzzles against Kihyun's cheek, whispering softly into his ear and pressing his lips together to keep himself from sobbing. Kihyun looks so small and fragile wrapped up in his arms, his eyes moving rapidly behind his eyelids and lips trembling around soft, pitiful whimpers. “I'm right with you. Breathe — breathe with me, Kihyun.”

Hoseok carefully shifts his arm from around Kihyun's middle, places his palm, unfurled, over the wild thump of his heart. Despite himself, Hoseok breathes in deeply, demonstratively, so Kihyun can feel him. And he does, his breaths slowly becoming less shallow and erratic and his heart beat falling into a steady, gentle rhythm.

"That's it, baby. Just like that, you're doing so well,” Hoseok breathes. Within the next moment, Kihyun loosens up against Hoseok and throws his head back over Hoseok's shoulder, his face turned to the side to press his mouth against Hoseok's neck.

When Hoseok feels Kihyun leaving a weak kiss there, feels Kihyun's lips trembling against his skin, he draws his knees up, caging Kihyun within his hold even more. All Hoseok wants is to hold Kihyun, cradle him against his chest and keep him there forever. Away from everything else in the world and away from anything that could potentially hurt Kihyun. Because Kihyun is his treasure, his precious baby, and he wishes he could shine a light in Kihyun's eyes, draw out every last shadow from there.

“I'm sorry, Kihyunnie. I'm so sorry,” he whispers brokenly over Kihyun's forehead.

He feels Kihyun shake his head, his damp hair tickling under Hoseok's chin. Then, Kihyun's pressing up and turning around, sitting back on his ankles between Hoseok's thighs instead. He fists his hands over Hoseok's chest and presses close, squirming a little, like a needy kitten, a silent plea for Hoseok to hold him. And Hoseok smiles weakly at his actions, his lips quivering a little, and reaches to hold onto Kihyun's waist.

Like this, with Kihyun in front of him, Hoseok can see the faint redness of his eyes, the dampness of his thick eyelashes and the bursts of pink and red blooming all over his cheeks, and Hoseok's heart drops at the sight, his palms fumbling over the sides of Kihyun's waist. Kihyun seems to notice this. He's always been quick to pick up tiny details and changes in Hoseok's behaviour. So he raises a hand to Hoseok's face, presses his thumb and index to the corners of Hoseok's mouth and pulls his lips up into a messy smile.

"Don't be sorry. It wasn't your fault,” Kihyun assures, his eyes full of so much ardour and emotion, it makes Hoseok's bones tingle.

And Hoseok still wants to pull Kihyun close and sob into his shoulder, because it _hurts_ thinking of Kihyun hurting. But Kihyun is sitting pressed against him, his hand cradling his face and the other on his chest, and he's smiling. Despite the tiredness and the fleeting ghost of his pain in his eyes, Kihyun looks happy. Happy with Hoseok and happy to be here with him, and Hoseok thinks it's okay, because when Kihyun's ready, he'll come to him and he'll let him in.  

.

Kihyun's standing over the sink in the en-suite bathroom, staring into the mirror as he scrubs his teeth. His hair is a tousled mess of brown atop his head and he's wearing one of Hoseok's old, university sweatshirts. It hangs loosely over his willowy frame, the hem grazing his knees and sleeves falling past his fingers. He looks perfect in it, sleep in his eyes and morning afterglow on his skin, and Hoseok _knows_ he's in love.

They're at Hoseok's penthouse, because Hoseok usually brings Kihyun here after he's done working. Nevermind that he prefers staying at Kihyun's, because he finds it so much nicer — Kihyun likes it here and Hoseok can never bring himself to say _no_ to him. It's almost two in the afternoon, because they'd spent most of the morning with Hoseok rolling over to pepper Kihyun's face with kisses and Kihyun trying to bat him away.  

"Would you go away with me?” Hoseok asks quietly, his eyes soft and full of love, his lips curled into a small smile. He's leaning back onto the countertop in the bathroom, next to the sink, watching fondly as Kihyun brushes his teeth and holds his hair back with his spare hand.

Kihyun smiles around his toothbrush. He rinses his mouth, sets the brush in a small mug next to the sink and pats his face dry with soft face towel. It feels plush and pillow-like against his mouth, and it reminds him of Hoseok's kisses and Hoseok's lips and just _Hoseok_. Soft and tender and gentle with everything he does.

"Depends,” Kihyun says through a small, tight smile. He turns a little to press his hip into the marble counter, looking at Hoseok with big, bright eyes and playing with the oversized sleeves of his -- _Hoseok's_ \--sweatshirt. “Where are you taking me?”

Hoseok palms around over a selection of skin-care products set on the counter, and picks up a tub of moisturiser. He moves closer to Kihyun, dips two fingers into the cream and carefully dabs it over Kihyun's face. He gently massages the lotion into Kihyun's skin with two fingers, smiling when Kihyun turns his head to kiss his palm.

Setting the cream back onto the countertop, Hoseok threads his fingers through Kihyun's soft hair and curls the fingers of his other hand into Kihyun's sweatshirt, right over his hip.

“Paris,” he says, gingerly taking Kihyun's ear between his fingers and pressing softly onto his earlobe.

Kihyun blinks. “Paris?” He asks, his eyebrows raised and lips curled into an amused smile.

His skin tingles with excitement when Hoseok gives his sweatshirt a light tug and presses him into the counter. The marble is cold and hard against his spine, but it feels like nothing with Hoseok straddling him against the sink, their hips pressed into each other's.

“Okay, well, maybe not,” Hoseok admits, and Kihyun laughs. His breath is minty and warm over Hoseok's mouth and his fingers feel light and wonderful caressing the sides of Hoseok's neck.

“Yet,” Hoseok adds quickly, wrapping his hands around Kihyun's bare thighs and lifting him up onto the counter. Kihyun gasps sharply at the sudden press of cold marble against the sensitive skin of his thighs, but Hoseok mulls it over with a quick kiss to his lips.

He quickly settles between Kihyun's legs. His insides pound with the force of a sledgehammer driving into a wall and his knees are shaking. Kihyun notices and grips onto his lover's shoulders, leaning closer to kiss over the junction of his neck and shoulder. When Hoseok eases up under Kihyun touch, Kihyun smiles at him and nods for him to continue.

So he does, with a deep breath. “But what about the beach?” Hoseok asks carefully, his fingers trailing over the soft flesh of Kihyun's thigh. “There's this place in Incheon I want to take you. It'll be a perfect weekend away from everything. _Together_ ," he says with emphasis, squeezing Kihyun's thigh in his palm and filling Kihyun with bursts of warmth.

 _Together, just the two of them._  It sounds wonderful, like a dream. Like all the times Kihyun wondered what it would be like to keep Hoseok to himself forever. To not have to confine themselves in rooms and worry about other places where they need to be.

Kihyun can't keep the smile off his face when he nods, his cheeks dipping in and his eyes crinkled and pretty. He feels like his heart might crack open and stain his clothes with rose and crimson.

“Yeah, I'd like that,” he whispers. His voice is warm and liquid and Hoseok wants to drown himself in it — in _Kihyun_. “Very, very much.”

.

"It's beautiful,” Kihyun says when he steps out of Hoseok's car, his eyes wide and voice soft and small. They're at the coast, where the glittering city of Incheon dissolves into beaches and sand and hugs the sea. And it's lovely. It smells like salt and warm sunsets and _dreams._

The salty breeze ruffles Kihyun's hair and he picks at the strap of his messenger bag. Under the gold sun, the sea glitters like a pool of stars and it feels like it's calling him. Pushed a little away from the shore and sand dunes, there's a beach house. It's all grey walls, glass panels and polished stone, but cozy and perfect.

Kihyun feels a warm body pressing into his side, followed by a strong, familiar arm curling around his middle, and he promptly keens under the touch.

“I knew you'd like it here,” Hoseok whispers quietly in Kihyun's ear, his voice low and buttery, his breath so, so warm on Kihyun's skin. It makes Kihyun's bones tremble, and he smiles when he feels Hoseok press a kiss to his cheek.

“I do. I love it,” Kihyun agrees, snuggling further into Hoseok's chest and breathing him in. He smells woodsy and warm, like cinnamon. It's so familiar and comforting, like home and everything Kihyun has ever known. Further out, the waves gently crash against the rock-pebbled shore. It sounds like a soft lullaby, something Kihyun could fall asleep to the way Hoseok falls asleep to him singing sometimes. “I really do.”

Hoseok nuzzles his cheek against the top of Kihyun's head. His hair feels soft and lovely, like a canopy of feathers or a soft pillow, and it smells like ripe peaches and honey. He notices how Kihyun's eyes glitter as he gazes at the beach, how his fingers curl around the strap of his bag in anticipation and the way he's digging the front of his shoe into the sand, trying to feel it through the soles of his converse. On the way here, Kihyun had quietly mentioned how nice it would be if they could walk along the shore together. Barefoot over the sand, as the sun sets. And Hoseok can see a glimmer of desire in his eyes still.

So he hooks a hand over the curve of Kihyun's waist, his fingers dipping under the hem of his t-shirt, and squeezes softly. He says, “I’ll just go put our stuff in the house.”

Kihyun narrows his eyes at his lover. Hoseok smiles, swoops down and kisses Kihyun's nose, and Kihyun scrunches it up in response. “Hoseok, we have, like, one bag. And it hardly qualifies as a bag. You brought a hoodie and _one_ shirt.”

“It still counts, Kiki,” Hoseok says, his lips pursed into small pout. Kihyun chuckles softly and presses up on his toes to kiss Hoseok's mouth, smiling as he does so, his heart fluttering in his chest. He twists away from Hoseok to make for the beach, but Hoseok promptly stops him with a light tug at his wrist.

Carefully, he eases the strap of Kihyun's bag off his shoulder, and in one swift movement, Hoseok shrugs his jacket off his shoulders. It's denim, loose and a little oversized even on Hoseok's frame, but it completely swallows Kihyun up when Hoseok drapes it over his shoulders instead.

“Don't catch a cold,” Hoseok says, smiling big and bright. He holds the jacket up as Kihyun pushes his arms through it, hooks a finger under Kihyun's chin and kisses him once he's done. Kihyun looks soft and perfect in Hoseok's jacket. The denim is pooled up around his shoulders and arms, and the sleeves fall past Kihyun's knuckles. And it smells of Hoseok's perfume, which means _Kihyun_ smells like Hoseok's perfume. “I'll be with you in two seconds, okay?”

Kihyun only nods, smiling softly and gripping tightly onto the fabric of Hoseok's jacket. Hoseok kisses him again, on the forehead this time, cradling the base of Kihyun's skull as he does so. Once he brushes past Kihyun and towards the house, Kihyun carefully treads down towards the beach, kicking his shoes off and rolling his jeans up to his knees.

Pink and gold paint the sky, the sun sinking further and further down the horizon. Kihyun presses his toes into the sand, grinning when the waves gently lap at his feet and ebb away. The beach is soft and warm under the pads of his feet, like a little kiss every time he steps.

“Kihyun!” Hoseok calls out from somewhere behind him. There are footsteps, the soft sound of sand sinking under someone weight — _Hoseok's_ footsteps. Kihyun can tell by how they're paced, a little quick and light. He wonders if Hoseok can recognise him by the sound of his footsteps.

Then, Hoseok is curling himself around Kihyun from behind, his arms snug around Kihyun's middle, his face pressed into the side of Kihyun's neck. There, he places a lingering, soft kiss, smiles when Kihyun hums quietly.   

"You wanna go inside?” Asks Hoseok, exhaling it over Kihyun's neck and feeling Kihyun shudder softly against him.

"Hoseok,” Kihyun starts, shuffling his feet under him and twists a little to glare up at his lover. His lips are pressed together in a thin line, his eyes narrowed, but there's a tiny crinkle under his eye, and Hoseok _knows_ Kihyun isn't actually mad. So he leans closer and kisses the corner of Kihyun's mouth, chuckling when Kihyun squirms a little. “We _just_ got here, and you said you'd walk with me.”

Kihyun turns around fully, so they're face to face, and he's so close, the tip of his nose is brushing against Hoseok's and their mouths are almost pressed together. He slowly curls his fingers into Hoseok's shirt, right under his shoulders and peers up at him through his eyelashes. It's a silent plea, a ploy to soften Hoseok up more than he already is. And with every time Kihyun blinks, slow and so, so prettily, his lips parted slightly around soft breaths, Hoseok feels himself crumbling. Because Kihyun is perfect and so unreal, and he looks even better in Hoseok's jacket, with Hoseok's arms snug around him as they stand so close over the shoreline.

The wind tousles Kihyun's hair, flopping it over side to side messily, and it somehow makes him look softer than he already does. A pretty, _pretty_ boy, wrapped in oversized, loose denim that hangs off every inch of his frame, and a ruffled mess of brown hair atop his head. Two spots of colour rest high on his cheeks, too, and his lips are so, so pink and they look so soft. Hoseok wants to _bite_ them, suck on them and kiss them until they're a blooming red.

So he does, only dropping a sweet, endeared peck over Kihyun's mouth and nuzzling Kihyun's cheek with his nose.

“ _My God,_  you drive me crazy,” he whispers over Kihyun's skin. He feels Kihyun smile against his chin, feels the soft curl of his lips, like velvet over his skin. “I wish I knew how to say _no_ to you.”

“But you don't,” Kihyun chimes happily, hooking his hands around the back of Hoseok's neck and pressing closer to kiss his shoulder. Hoseok groans where his face is now buried in Kihyun's neck, his arms still wound around Kihyun's waist. “And you can't, so you'll walk with me?”

Hoseok draws away and Kihyun does, too, by relfex. And then Hoseok's smiling at him, big and soft, his eyes full of emotion and _love_ , and it's making Kihyun's knees tremble.

“Yeah,” Hoseok says, pushing a strand of Kihyun's hair behind his hair. “I'll walk with you.”

They trail along the shore, laughing, fooling around, kissing, holding hands, until the sun dips below the horizon and bursts of purple and blue fill the sky. Later, when Kihyun insists on making dinner, Hoseok comes up behind him and peers over Kihyun's shoulder at the garlic, herbs and olive oil he's spooning in a pan. Kihyun grumbles when Hoseok refuses to unwind his arms from around his middle, but he doesn't push Hoseok away, because it's nice and domestic — _terribly_ so. He even twists every now and then to feed Hoseok tiny bites of sauce and boiled, plain pasta. And Hoseok takes the opportunity to pull Kihyun's fingers into his mouth and suck on them.

They eat at the big island in the middle of the kitchen, off some fancy plates Hoseok had dug out of one of the crockery cabinets. Hoseok opens up an old bottle of wine, too, stares helplessly at Kihyun's mouth when it stains his lips a deep, translucent red.

At night, Hoseok dresses Kihyun in his own shirt, the _only_ shirt of his that he'd packed. And Kihyun falls asleep to the soft sound of waves crashing onto rocks and the gentle sea breeze blowing in through the windows.

.

The morning light seeps into Kihyun's hair, filtering through the messy curls. It makes his skin glow, like the moon on a clear night,  and he's wearing Hoseok's hoodie in place of Hoseok's shirt, which he'd worn to bed. Like all of Hoseok's clothes, it dips past his hips and ends mid-thigh, leaving Kihyun's thighs to glow in the white light. He looks soft and comfy, like if Hoseok were to hug him, he'd sink into Kihyun because of how pillowy-soft he is.

He's standing under the archway that leads into the kitchen, looking sleepy, but not tired, like he's woken up from a lovely, calm slumber that came with being cradled to Hoseok's chest and wrapped in a soft cocoon of sheets and love.

“Hi, baby,” Hoseok calls. His voice is honey and sweet, like always, and it warms Kihyun's belly and his fingertips, which peek out from the long sleeves of Hoseok's hoodie.

Kihyun hums softly in response. He's still a little hazy and muddled from last night — from the way Hoseok had kissed him and made love to him under the sheets, slow and sweet, like he was taking his time cherishing and _loving_ Kihyun. A little wobbly, he pads over to where Hoseok is leaning onto the big island in the middle of the kitchen. He's rubbing at his eyes with a balled fist and stumbling over himself. There's still sleep in his eyes and his lips are puffy and pursed into a pout, but Hoseok thinks he looks so, so pretty. He's seen Kihyun in the morning countless times after all the nights they spent together, but he can never get enough of how perfect Kihyun looks, soft and ruffled, every time he crawls out of bed.

When Kihyun is close enough, Hoseok smiles at him and reaches for his hand. He grabs onto a fistful of hoodie where it dips over Kihyun's knuckles, and tugs him closer gently until their toes are almost touching. 

"Did you sleep well?” He asks, running his fingers through Kihyun's soft, soft hair and smoothing it down where lone curls stick up in different directions.

“Yes,” Kihyun answers, whispers more like, and yawns, like a baby kitten that's just crawled out of its slumbering state. And it's so endearing, Hoseok can't help but kiss his cheek.

As Kihyun's senses slowly drift back and the sleep unclouds his eyes, he picks up small, little things. Hoseok's wearing the same shirt he'd worn on the way here yesterday, but he smells clean and freshly showered, and delicately of Kihyun's face cream. Through the windows and the glass door that leads out onto the deck, Kihyun can hear the sea, waves splashing against the rocks and each other. And there's a sweet, sugary smell wafting into the air and something a bit stronger — not the salt in the air outside or the flowers potted in tiny planters around the kitchen.

Kihyun's eyes flicker over the kitchen island, behind Hoseok, and immediately settle on a plate of freshly toasted waffles and a pot of coffee. There are two mugs and a single plate for the waffles, but with two forks. There's even a small dollop of whipped cream sitting on top of the stack of sugary delicacies, and a few blueberries skittered along the side of the plate. Kihyun's body fills with warmth, all the way down to his toes from the tips of his fingers.

“You didn't have to,” Kihyun says softly, smiling up at Hoseok and clutching onto his fingers through the fabric of his hoodie. He knows how much Hoseok hates waking up first or earlier than Kihyun, but he did it anyway and even made breakfast in the same spirit. He did it for _Kihyun_. It's heartwarming and Kihyun feels a hundred emotions at once.

“No, but I wanted to. I want to do nice, simple, _sweet_ things for you, because _you're_ sweet and you know much I love spoiling you,” Hoseok answers easily, tugging at Kihyun's hand once again and nudging him towards one of the kitchen stools. Kihyun quickly settles down onto it and swings his legs back and forth, giggling when Hoseok swoops down to kiss his lips. “And anyway, you were sleeping so soundly and you seemed tired yesterday. I couldn't bring myself to wake you.”

Kihyun laughs, and it's like the gentle rustle of leaves in the spring breeze. He reaches for one of the forks Hoseok had put out, presses its prongs into the stack of waffles and tears off a bite. With one hand cupped under, he holds the fork up to Hoseok's mouth.  

“You're too much and _too_ good to me,” he pipes, grinning when Hoseok takes the piece of waffle into his mouth.

“But you like it,” Hoseok mumbles around a mouthful of waffle, his cheeks puffed around the food in his mouth, and Kihyun laughs again, just as prettily.

“Of course, I do, baby," he agrees, breathes it out as a laugh, clasping his hands together in his lap and pressing his thighs together. “Thank you.”

Hoseok only shakes his head, as be chews the bite in his mouth. The movement sends his hair flopping around his head, like a puppy’s ears when it prances around and it's _adorable._

Kihyun watches Hoseok with silent, sparkling eyes, a small smile on his face, until Hoseok finally swallows. He looks endeared and a little amused. Hoseok picks out the tiny dips in Kihyun's cheeks, right under his eyes, and the full, perfect stretch of his lips.

Even the smallest and littlest of details and movements send Hoseok's heart fluttering. Everything about Kihyun right now makes Hoseok's heart sprout wings and soar so, so high, and it's the best feeling. Light and wonderful, like palms swaying in the wind, they're like poetry. Romanticised and eloquent. Everything about Kihyun — Kihyun himself — is walking poetry, with the sun in his eyes and galaxies under his skin.

All those poetry books Kihyun immerses himself in, Hoseok thinks _this_ is what they spell out through all the romanticism and metaphors and lyrical, interpretive words. They shape love and affection, and Hoseok realises, looking at Kihyun's hair, mussed from sleep, and brown, _sparkling_ eyes, and it makes his blood ripple in his veins.

Hoseok is so, so in love, and _Kihyun_ is the shape of his love.

"You have something,” Kihyun says, shifting to perch himself on the edge of the stool. He reaches up and presses the pad of his thumb to the corner of Hoseok's lips, brushing a few crumbs away and then pushes his thumb into his own mouth, licking it clean.

and just like that, Hoseok thinks Kihyun looks the prettiest. He looks perfect in Hoseok's hoodie, small and soft. His eyes are glittering with so much mirth and happiness that they might as well overflow and his lips are puckered softly around the pad of his thumb. There are faint, purple marks littered over the insides of thighs, where Hoseok had taken his time kissing, sucking on and biting the supple flesh. And Hoseok knows he wants to wake up to this every day — wake up to Kihyun every day, knowing he's happy and _his._

Hoseok thinks about the night they first met and every day after. He thinks about yesterday: Kihyun's cold, damp hands cradling his face, pressing onto his cheeks, molecules of sand in their kiss, Kihyun tasting like the late night ocean, the waves foaming along the shoreline, chasing Kihyun's feet as they sprint along the beach, the coral light catching in Kihyun's hair, filtering through it. And he remembers kneeling in the sand, his arms wrapped around Kihyun's hips, and Kihyun straddling his thighs and looking into his eyes, like he's his whole world. Hoseok remembers how badly he'd wanted to say it — to tell Kihyun just how much he means to him. And thinks of how badly he _still_ wants to say it, so he does.

"I love you,” Hoseok says, loud and smooth with meaning. There's no tremor or hitch in his voice, it's just easy and plain, like all he knows is that he loves Kihyun. And Kihyun freezes with his thumb still teased into his mouth, his eyes gazing deep into Hoseok's, like he's searching for something. But Kihyun only sees the same honest, dusky eyes he's always known. Except this time, they're full of love and unmasked emotion, and Kihyun thinks his heart might burst. It's beating so loud in his chest, thrumming against his ribs, and it's _wonderful_.

They're stuck in the same loop of time, looking at each other like they there's a whole universe in their skin. Kihyun's heartstrings are coming undone, slacking looser and looser with how softly Hoseok is looking at him, an adoring shine in his eyes. And Kihyun's eyes are just as gentle and warm, like he's been surprised with the loveliest present or a sweet card. They are soft and in-search, and Hoseok decides to stay there forever, lost deep in the stars of Kihyun's pretty, pretty eyes.

But when Kihyun smiles, it's like looking at the sun personified.  He smiles big and bright, bigger than Hoseok has ever seen Kihyun smile before. It's _such_ a pretty stretch of his lips and it makes the slight fullness of Kihyun's cheeks puff, like soft pillows. It makes them seem so much more plush and supple than they already are, and Hoseok wants to kiss them. With a bit of Kihyun's cherry-red lip oil, just so he can see the colour burst over his cheeks in two pretty, red love marks.

"I love you, too,” Kihyun finally breathes out, a little broken and thin, like fine thread. It sounds like he's trying to keep himself from breaking out into happy, incredulous sobs, and Hoseok's face goes soft. Hoseok feels a burst of fondness for the dancer, and he wants to hold Kihyun, fold him up in the dark of his palms and protect him. He wants to cradle Kihyun's tiny face in his hands and nuzzle him to his chest, so he can hear, _feel_ the way Hoseok's heart beats for him.

He curls his arms around Kihyun's middle, scooping him up so Kihyun can stand on his feet. They're pressed so close together, Hoseok hugging Kihyun to his bigger frame, his face digging into Kihyun's shoulder, and Kihyun's arms wrapped around Hoseok's neck, his fingers playing with the soft, small hairs over Hoseok's nape. Kihyun smells like love and cream and faintly of salt, and he feels so warm and soft in Hoseok's arms.    

“Thank you,” Hoseok feels Kihyun whisper into his hair. His breath is warm and it hangs in Hoseok's tresses, hovering over his scalp like a big cloud that's full of sunlight and soft heat.

"For what?” Hoseok kisses over the side of Kihyun's throat, right where Kihyun likes it, near the base of his neck. He eases the neckline of Kihyun's hoodie down towards Kihyun's shoulder with his lips, and kisses the bare, creamy skin there. The delicate smell of perfume — _Hoseok's_ perfume — shrouds Kihyun, Hoseok notices, like it's been rubbed into Kihyun's skin. He likes the thought, though, pines over it with a soft smile. Because he wants Kihyun to smell like him, and he wants Kihyun's clothes and bed sheets to smell like him, too, so there's always a gentle reminder of him there for Kihyun to remember him by when he's not around.

“Everything.” Kihyun pushes at Hoseok's chest gently and smiles when he looks at him. He slowly unwinds his arms from around Hoseok's neck and instead cradles Hoseok's face in his hands. His palms are soft against Hoseok's cheeks, like the petals of a plush, red rose. Hoseok wishes he could stay like this forever, Kihyun touching him, _holding_ him like he's the loveliest. “You make me feel like I'm your whole world.”

“Because you are. _You are_ , baby,” Hoseok whispers. He brings a hand up to place over Kihyun's, squeezing it ever so gently and leaning deeper into his touch. The smile on his face is so sloppily contained, but it's beautiful and makes Kihyun's insides feel fuzzy with warmth, because Hoseok only looks at _him_ like that, so transparent and soft and arduous.

He feels like he's falling, _swimming_ in everything Hoseok has said, and all he can think about is _Hoseok, Hoseok, Hoseok._ It's like he's skinny dipping inside Kihyun's head. And he wants to stay here forever, with Hoseok, just the two of them. He wants to jump inside Hoseok's bones and crawl inside his veins. All he wants is _Hoseok_ and for them to be together, and so he pulls him closer, his hands cupping Hoseok's cheeks.

And Hoseok promptly surges forward to press his mouth to Kihyun's, and they kiss. It's slow and so wonderful, a soft press of lips, like Hoseok is simply caressing Kihyun's mouth with his own. It send Hoseok's heart soaring, making him feel wonderfully light and afloat, as if he's swimming through pools of liquid galaxies and stars. He wonders if Kihyun has planets in his palms.

When they draw away, Hoseok presses his forehead to Kihyun's. There are stars in Kihyun's eyes and they're glittering with tears. He's with the diamonds in the sky, and Hoseok is so in love.

With a pounding heart, exploding with love and happiness and everything wonderful in the world, Hoseok says, “You're my everything.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> i had lots of fun writing this dishsjsj stripper ki is my fave. thank you for reading ! comments keep me motivated & are much appreciated <3 
> 
> come find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/fuzzykiho)  
> and [cc](https://curiouscat.me/fuzzykiho) !!!!!!


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